Most recent stories

Man Resting On Tires, NYC

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A man asleep on a stack of tires in front of a tire shop on 10th Aveune, NYC. A store that’s “open 25 hrs,” where apparently time is being manufactured. The unknown new element, the 25th hour, even though the other 24 may have been shortened som

Damp

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I'm a madman. People call me other stuff, but I'm a madman. My name is Roberto Nolasco Bahag-hari. Yeah, I know. It's kinda funny for a name. Friends sometimes call me RNB though I hate that freakin' music. Sometimes people…

der Morgenmuffel

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I sat on the corner of her desk ... Angela Merkel can be a sweetie when she wants to be.

A meditation on mint tins

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And I am reminded of river eyes: The summer we slumbered, Like mummies in the sand

Tattooed Thumb

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A tattoo of a river steamboat, one you dreamed up in your sleep and drew yourself is anchored around your nail bed on your thumb. I paint my nails with regatta sails. The toxic fumes sting my nose. You say you're bored and take out a needle filling it with ink. I watch as…

Mankind vs. The Undertaker

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Her boyfriend is into U.S. presidents and professional wrestling. He is reading biographies of both occupations and says this helps him to appreciate gray area, decisive action. Lives of great men, he explains.

Rats

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She liked this young woman. They’d met two weeks earlier, when the young woman had been walking her pet chicken on a pink ribbon leash.

last attempt at innocence

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When we were leaving to go to the ice rink, Lynda surprised all of us by saying she wanted to come along. She slid all the way over in the front seat to be next to me, while one of my buddies, Miller, who had his eye on her himself, slid into the passen

COD: Extreme Hunger

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Mid-laugh, Mr. Adams caught himself. His eyes welled, flooded with guilt for chuckling at his son's funeral.

Better

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... all my friends are girls; I like opera; I can answer all the questions about male and female ejaculation – without stammering – in sex ed. classes. And Braydon? In boardshorts, tall and tanned and naked from the waist up ...

Wish I Had

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A pet scorpion. A pet scorpion named Chris.(1)

Airman

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Tent City has gone quiet. There is a deadline. I heard it on the news. I’ve never thought about the word before. How in this place it means what it means.

A Dialectical Digression

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It performs the dialectic that intertwines real and ideal through her mounting concern about being choked to death then eaten by a very large pig.

Sestina McRib

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And now the McRib is back. Two dollars.

Heather.

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Gone Heather, with her hands in her hair, silent for help, over-involved now scared.

What If?

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“Can you adopt if you work for the circus?” I asked her

she used to be really wild. she's calmed down a lot

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I remember distinctly the first time I saw Lynda. She was not a stunning-looking girl by any stretch of the imagination. She was short, with naturally blond Swedish hair that she wore in a long ponytail that dropped down her back. It was freezing outs

Kramer vs. Kramer

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Kramer wraps himself around Kramer’s legs, from behind, then lifts him and tips him up and over and down, per their rehearsed routine.

I Am Not a Corpse

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A corpse cannot cry.

Family Circle

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the far-flung Turner boys and their broods descended upon Pemberton like locusts

Your Guide to Wi-Fi Security

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Public Wi-Fi ”hotspots” allow men and women to ogle each other discreetly while pretending to write the Great American Novel.

Ditto

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He looked straight at her, not to challenge her, but to better gauge what it was she would throw at him. Her eyes always darted to the thing right before her red, swollen fingers snatched at it, like a thing possessed.

Two Trees

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I watch my mother and my daughter, each wondering in her own quiet way about where this story will go next.

How to Tell if Your Loved One Belongs in the Booby Hatch

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It is well known around town that Ray's dad went crazy. Today, when asked, everyone will tell you that they knew all along he had a screw loose, told their wife, “That Mick Borkowski's gone bat-shit.” But when it was happening, no one paid it any…

More Visions of Astounding Beauty

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I remember saying, I’ll tell you what I think, if you tell me even one of your little secrets, okay? Whoa! A little too much information there, Wolfie, or Pharaoh, or whatever your name is now. I remember you with the same beard (just a different co

Welcome Back

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I lean forward and take her two hands in mine. I look into her eyes. “It’s you and only you,” I say. She starts to cry.

Unpacking Sentences

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This is what I do for a living: I unpack sentences.

Three Sentences, Adding up to One Spectacular Disease-Ridden Bed of the Broken Hearted

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1.Oh yes, I'm just kicking around in the leftover moon dust you could say I'm certainly not waiting around for your satellite feed anymore certainly never ever hoping to see if your free falling hair strands still look…

Ready to Go

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Where the fuck are my keys?Where the hell is my phone?Where the fuck are my keys?Where the hell is my phone?Where the fuck are my keys?Where the hell is my phone?Where the fuck are my keys?Where the hell is my phone?Where the fuck are my keys?Where the hell is my…

Now's the Time: Three Women of Jazz Today

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The world of jazz resembles the Elizabethan stage: bare, unadorned sets, little of what is performed is reduced to writing, no, or hardly any women.