Most recent stories

A Borrowed Barrow

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It was a battered, creaky, rickety old thing, this wheelbarrow. It had two wooden handles with cracks running through the wood, a fat rubber wheel and a deep tray encrusted with the mud and plaster and grout that it had transported through decades of heavy use. Based on…

Nostalgias and Anachronisms, Past and Present

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Thus does time fly and we with it. Because time flies on the cosmic scale, curious things inevitably occur in local circumstances.

Tying Flies

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He plucks the feathers and winds thread to simulate an insect’s torso.

This Poem Has No Title

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...Or perhaps it has; It depends which way you look at it. Perhaps the reader may cite laziness As my reason for not titling this Any other than I would have done As now, with such a title As it has, since for some reason I never…

Spellbinding

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If she weaves words that are true enough

Late July

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The cicadas struck their soundsTheir ribs made a clicking drumThe sound was formed over buckling ribsvibrations sounds like a maracas bangle beatingShe sat up in a lounge chair trying to sleepThe tiny ants she found tickling her armThey crawled from some hole…

That Pill

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It’s good to have some, Extra weight - Something they can Grab on to, In the sheets, When it’s late-

moms

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a few Hershey's Kisses tucked in with the note

Transformations

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Some nights now I sit at my window

The Time Traveler

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My work is not that sexy and glamorous kind of time travel that you see in the movies with Deloreans and phone booths.

I Must Want it. No, I Must Need It.

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She rubs her head into mine...

On the Deeper Slants of the Universe

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Everything makes sense.

Broken

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I rang the doorbell. Claire opened the door, wearing jeans and a T-shirt. I opened my arms to give her a big hug. She stiffened and pulled away. Stunned, my lips parted, but I couldn’t think of a single word to say. Ideal, Phillis. ”Broken”, Pure

The C.I.A. is trying to kill my GRANDMOTHER!!!

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Don't forget to fuck me. Blow me. Suck me. Don't forget to fuck me. [REPEAT 2X]

Who Was This Guy

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Luke and Diane sat at a round white table looking around the room. There were clusters of people forming an archipelago of cordial exchange and small talk. All but a few were strangers, friends and family of his sister-in-law Mary, now a widow, though the word sounded…

Going Home: 1937

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yeah time travel

Гумилёв и Ахматова via странников

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Walking down an unfamiliar street, / I heard a sudden caw of crows, / some thunder afar, strums of a lute— / a streetcar came flying along.

In Quietude

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For Algernon Afloat, on tidal difference's separated songs Let nothing spare her mention, still belongs That sterile tone mismissioned to my ear What love's illusion balanced most when throngs Of hummingbirds advanced, methinks, to hear…

April Haiku

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A sardonic moon/ surveys our plight and cackles.

A Message in Red-Brown Style

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The important thing is to repeat the keyword

The poplar

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Sometimes we hurt ourselves, we scratch ourselves, we bleed — for a simple joy... All I wanted to do was to find the poplar again — the tree of my young arms, of my budding breasts. My fingers used to circle around its bold and vigorous waist, but in the…

Apocalypse in G # Minor

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"What's it like?" Like everything else. We all do it, so how bad could it be?

Real Life

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Just like real life before poundsigns.

The Anguish of Easter

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I used to be so certain about right and wrong. About choices and their consequences. About heaven and hell and how there was no room in between no space in between no point in between (take that point how you will)

civilization

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is this the end of civilization is this what i've been thinking of

Working at a Truck Stop Outside Charlotte

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My name's Barbara and don't call me Barbie if you want to be my friend.

They Were RICHEY-RICH!!! (Part IV-tham, and FINAL!)

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[.......]

Crossed

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Their raging energy felt like a unified force that could catapult itself in any direction at a second’s notice, like a heat-seeking missile targeting the next warm body.

Floating Just Floating

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He didn't know why he kept writing. There was no reason to write. People ceased reading. They played video games. They watched Netflix. They walked down crowded city streets staring at smartphones. He was sustained in some weird way by the momentum of writing. As if the…

Small Ghosts

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the mother tells her child the flashes at the horizonare fireworks, not bombs, so he will not be afraid.at night he curls by the door or else he follows her to a different place. he is quiet, then. as if he knows the secret challenge.better if he and all the others…