Most recent stories

Mama

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So, I rough her up with sand paper, and hit her with chains, making dents. She examines her surfaces, tidily and efficiently, indicating the spots most in need of filling in with scratches and scrapes.

Craigslist 2014

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Craigslist 2014?

Hard Time

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Obesity in America is now considered a felony, thanks to Michelle Obama's biceps and weight obsession. They've sent me to couch potato prison where I'm doing hard time in a dark corner of an unfinished basement filled with cobwebs that…

Two Cents a Bale

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“Price has gone up,” Jim said. His head and his body were still, like a deer’s when it hears something. “It’s three cents a bale now.”

rag water echo

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It was in the good and strange middle spring and the rain kept announcing itself on the doorsteps and the railings of the town. As it bounced off of infrastructure and the top of eighteen wheeled trucks, rather than die little deaths, the drops found their way into the…

Metastasis

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I am eternal/ as long as the power holds

The Poet

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It dawned on herthat her imagination hadswollen beyond belief

Geode

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There is a rock somewhere with the truth of the sky in it, the glitter of otherworldly charms that falsify the ugliness of the literal.

How to Travel with your Demons (1)

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Someone's shaking powdered sugar on the tree limbs. Someone's turned out the lights. It's a beautiful morning.

Confessions of a Cursing Librarian

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Under no circumstances can you say "fuck" when you're working in a public library. Especially in the junior room.

8 zero+1 scarring digits tic toc glossie phanein and coy constellations or blood by boards avadhoota where no divine mthrs stay

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I am seven and it is in one of those spring stretches where temperatures proceed enough to make walking acceptable if not amicable. Pop cans and chip bags once boasting glossy surfaces and daring hues now faded to match asphalt fields. Other bits of things…

Lullabies.

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Sleep shall take you where plutonium Stars the drinking pools with light.

Toad On Fire

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“I would like to keep my head, at least for a few more nights. Didn't you say we were gonna have sex one of these days? Isn't that in the manual?”

“What Is Poetry Anyway?” He Said While Looking at the Sink Holding a French Fry Aloft

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—mashed potatoes / with emeralds in it—

How The West Was Won

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I looked through the window of my shop here in Laredo and saw him standing there with his six-shooters drawn as I sized him up from his head to his toes. A ten-gallon, weathered black hat sat atop his head and a worn pock-marked and sun-bleached, denim shirt criss-crossed…

Five Million Yen: Chapter 35

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They sat eating and looking at each other. To Ben, Claudia was certainly a handsome woman and a good bed partner, but he was getting more and more suspicious of her motives.

Librarians Love Me!

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Librarians love me, you want to know why? I don’t dog-ear pages, I don’t even try.

Marshmallow

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The razor finds hair, and cuts, eats away at the layers of hair I've built up since 16. Built up these layers of hair. Built up layers of hair. Big ears. Big layers of big hair to cover up big ears. First thing I got was this haircut. Haircut the moment I got in here.…

MAIZE

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Now, these explosions announced, political bribes and propaganda weren't going to be enough to push things through. There would need to be survival from blunt force trauma and fear tactics, a relentless forward march

Tobacco

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When you prime tobacco the old way . . .

unsettling

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papaya over-ripe displayed on the half with spoons sticking out - ” very ripe, tastes good “ blue crabs cooked with lavender i was sniffing a spoonful when the chef came out

Significant Things

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“This is a Kneeling Bus.” They’re all kneeling buses, why do they even have to say that? Almost every person gets off in the front now when it says it even says right on the bus to please move to the back and exit from the rear side doors. I hate having t

I Russian Bride - Letters 1-6 (novel excerpt)

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Online dating. Russian women. Beware.

The memories lived in the house

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each act of creation is a jolt of expectation

Brains

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My memory is like tracks in the snow. My memory is cookie dough. My memory is dirty tube socks.

Mister and Miss Marital Bliss

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The canvas bag lay crumpled and moaning in the middle of the room as Mister and Miss Marital Bliss contemplated what to do to it next. Spots of deep crimson blossomed like spring flowers all over the white sack and a large pool had gathered underneath. Rivulets of blood…

Assessing Beauty

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We can’t be sure. Perhaps it is/ some slight exaggeration of one/ or several elements that steals our breath.

They Don't Call! They Don't Write! But at Least they Have a Dog Blog

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“I spent the best years of my life raising you, and now that you've grown, I never hear from you.” Sound familiar? That's the “Mom's Lament.” Mothers have been kvetching at their grown-up kids like this since the beginning of…

The Watcher

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Maître d’

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Before the days of “customer experience,” Eddie figured out whatever information he could about his clients. He asked them for business cards, recorded their phone numbers from the reservation book, snapped photos of them in his mind…