Most recent stories

The Unknowable

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He’d tossed and turned all night, pondering what to do, afraid she was living alone. He’d decided to email her two words: “Love you” and signed it “Scary Sal,” as she’d always seemed so afraid of him.

Forecast for Mid-December

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In the next week or two, the red oak/ will loose and lose its leaves

Midwestern Charm

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He slathered the glue on my scalp and talked non-stop about Harlem. Electrodes or nodes, I never asked which, would measure something inside my head. I doubt they actually did though, measure anything. I've had the pleasure of having wires glued to my skull before and have…

A Flap and a Flutter from a Belfry

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After our visit to Phoenix and following our inspection of the Grand Canyon, our seminary octet continued its twelve-thousand mile sojourn across the country as a quintet.

Other Verities

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He who is well hydrated, won't sweat you

Too Weak for the World

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There was a certain romanticism in it, the salty old man sidling up to me at a bar, rhapsodizing in a slurred stream of conscious about the state of the world, the country, the state of his own heart. He didn't have an eye patch nor beard, nor was he…

IT CAN, IT CAN, IT CAN

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A man jumped off the High Level Bridge this morning.

Wheelbarrels

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What a great feeling it was, the day I first thought about and discovered how toilets work. Nearly as exciting as the day I learned wheelbarrel is actually spelled wheelbarrow.

Food for Thought

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I could never be a chef.Preparing creations that will merely be consumed.If I were a chef,I'd have to create dishes that required chewingand chewing and chewing.I'd find it better for my dishes to be destroyed in the mouth.Remembered for their…

Zohra El Fassia by Erez Bitton

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Poem: Zohra El Fassia by Erez Bitton

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 55

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The rising sun was hidden from his eyes by the hips of the woman next to him in the bed.

Pretty New Landscape

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It's important to make a sure sound. It's not impossible you know. It's just funny I suppose, like being in a dream of another dream. All these things could be mashed and tumbled together to make us one big clay hero, someone…

Another Time

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My boyfriend had to work but had gotten a turkey for free and thought I could make it for everyone for Christmas Eve dinner. I had never made a turkey before, and not much of anything else. Now if my sister had been there, it might have been a meal of cul

Crack in the Cosmos

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There’s a crack in the cosmos, and pink is leaking through. There’s a crack in the cosmos, fix the sink, the toilet leak. There are many cracks in the cosmos, numerous. This is how time escapes. Good grief, they’re going to suck the cream

Miss Havisham's Fire

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. . . catching her breath somewhere between ecstasy and surprise. . .

Farewell Letter to the Blues

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And, you peasy-headed shrew, don’t you dare think I didn’t notice that it was you who stuck that fork into my neck in the Piggly Wiggly parking lot late Tuesday night . . .

These Are Not The Hours

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What'd You Do This Weekend?

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Sometimes your Monday morning answer to the inevitable questions don't have to be so mundane and repetitive. And sometimes they do. No one gives a shit anyway.

Half Staff

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We mourn/ in perpetuity and are inured

Nine Elephants and an Ass

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Nine sated elephants and an ass sit around a decimated Thanksgiving table discussing the state of the union over the hacked to bits carcass of a twenty-three pound turkey. Two years in to The Great Communicator's Lame Duck term and the nine elephants, whose…

A New Thing

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I am trying very hard to rhyme, and trying very hard not to.

Fine, she said

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A rope is cleaner, he explains with a straight face. He's calmed by the visual.

Beneath the Rise and Murmur of Your Voice

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Beneath the rise and murmur of your voicethere lies a hush more rapid than the silence meets within your eyes; the ghosts of cloudfall also meet them there. Your tongue has murmurs more than I can hear just now, for here my ears are met with something…

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 54

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Frank shouldered his backpack, grabbed the leather satchel packed with his brushes, palette knives, pens, and pencils, and exited the vaporetto at the Rialto Bridge.

Dancing With the Monster

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It comes to me at night, the monster. I don't even realize it's in the room until I hear it breathing behind me. It reaches out its hands and places them on my shoulders. Its fingers are furry and soft, but strong. They grasp the muscles on either side of my neck, and I…

Every Mirror with Two Sides

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She was gazing down at her two hands holding the peach seersucker top, but without blinking she saw four hands—ahh, idiot, the mirror! But in the next moment no, it was four hands . . .

The girl from the café who wore black eyeshadow

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Blood Brother

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Treasonous brother

Workingman

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He died in the ditch he dug.

Friendsgiving

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Everything would've been copasetic except about the time we got down there they put the turkey in the fryer..