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  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    The little river is cool, filled with fresh spring water, but the air around it is hot. It's July in Orlando, and the river is filled with mosquitoes and no-see-ums, and people, who turned out in hopes that a tiny, icy spring could protect them from the sticky, relentless humidity of the Flori...
  • Fiction > All Fiction
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    Alice stared out her bedroom window. She could see the tiger from where she was, he was crouched in her rosebushes, and she knew that given the choice, he would jump out at her, come flying through, so she stayed indoors, safe, and cool, unlike the outside, were it was India, and summer. Thank God...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    It's Florida, and it's hot. We're in the Explorer, and Shane and I are still small enough to fit in the back seat comfortable with blankets, pillows, stuffed animals and back packs. But we've been in the car for an incredible four hours. Four hours of sitting in a hot, hot car...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    Two deep breathes. Count them. One, two. Your hair falls in your face. Tuck it away. No, no stop it. Quit biting your lip. You'll be alright. You'll be alright. She murmurs these condolences in her mind, day after day after day. It's alright. That was yesterday. That was...
  • Fiction > Sci-fi/Fantasy
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    In summer, the marshes in Florida are warm-cool, and sticky, filled with bugs and birds that fly through the syrup, and like to bite anything they see. Tonight is a full moon, and we can see the bats silently circling above us, and the minnows jumping and swimming under our feet. If we stand perfe...
  • Fiction > Sci-fi/Fantasy
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    On average, the core temperature of my ship is 84°F, with the internal temperature being a much cooler 73°F, and those are the stats the computer is giving me, even though the air the vents are putting out is quite a bit closer to 100°F, so I call for my daughter, as she is the only computer expe...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Spiders have long legs, and they scramble across the desert, fingers digging in for purchase, struggling to crown the smooth, peaked dunes. They are not doing a very good job, and as their nails scrape across her flesh, the soft hills crumble, the animals melting down into sand fearing the i...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Surreal sandals slide across sand, slipping over sticks slick with seawater - (and I say surreal, because I can't be sure if any of this is happening) It's strange to me, this feeling of ambiguity so I skip lightly ahead of you and call for you to catch me if you can! but, of c...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    tongue swirls thick brine, and maybe it isn’t so bad, but it doesn’t make up for this new, half-blindness, or for the sudden plunge into warm water...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I see you, walking home from work wearing high-class suits, and raw silk blouses you sit on the metro real straight - rigid, so that less of your body touches the seat And you open your designer bag peak inside - and yes, it's still there, and today, it's champagne, ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    The edges of the ribbons are singed (but I did that to them, so that they wouldn’t fray) The shoes themselves are pale-pink – (almost white, but not quite) Pale-pink silk, the toes Are grey shreds that I was supposed to dip in rosin. I never did. In the beginning, I slipped a lot, ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    We bought the parrot because her wings were dusty blue, riddled with streaks of faded turquoise, and streaks of pale grey, and she went so well with the floral upholstery on the wicker furniture, with the wall paper. She matched so wonderfully with the cage....
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    So when you turn to look at me, and my head starts spinning, and my stomach, turning;; when I’m too dizzy to walk, it’s the illogical blend of drugs, and coffee...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    Away from the eye, away from the mind. Waves washed away our drawing with the tide. Sand scratches faded by the close of day. Even our foot steps were gone. Waves washed away our drawing with the tide. Cold breakers, crashing on the sand. Even our foot steps were gone. F I left my memories ...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    She falls in love under the moon. It's not her fault, because she was born out of romance, out of a February wedding, fallen directly into a Florida summer, and she was taught in white lace dresses and salt water and full moons and no one told her that black and white went out of style, and ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    After the circus clown painted her cheeks on, and carefully crayoned a fuchsia smile, she stepped into the ring to begin her show. She began with the regular routine: the one with the squirt-gun tears, and the flower that was really a loud noise-maker. But she pulled it off well, and ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I used to look through my picture books, and see her, seaweed hair interwoven with shells, and pearls, that sparkled, shimmered, somehow, under the water, glowed. I was always so jealous of her, her eyes made of old sea glass, her lips were broken pieces of coral – kiss till soft, but few dare...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    I am diaphilactic. I am sophorus, I am hollow and dripping, I am an empty shell of a person filled disenuous philanthropy, and it’s bleeding out of my throat, my eyes, ears and teeth. I am not porous, and I hold your ideas as tightly as I hold on to the computer chips we ate last week. I claim ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    When I was little, I played with magnets. I matched north pole, to south pole, and it was simple, I understood, just like I knew that one plus one equaled two, and that Mommy plus Daddy equaled me and my brother. I was ok with that, it made sense, and it wasn't until much later that s...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    reach out two fingers to touch the impression your eyes left on my mind and feel the silver-soft of my brain on your fingertips. tell me, at night, when you look up at the moon do you realize the moon is the fatalistic mark of my memories firmly printed in grey matter and plaster across ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    The trees here Bear two different kinds of fruit Apples and pears, and Lemons and limes The bottom half of the fruits Are missing and they Drip liquids into the Waiting mouths of girls who Pass by Tender pink lips open in anticipation...
  • Hot Topics > What Matters
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    The summer before ninth grade we went to Kitty Hawk. I remember that it was the summer before ninth grade, because school id pictures had been taken before we left, and while we were on vacation, I had used sun-in to lighten my hair, and had worn no sunscreen, so that when school started up again, ...
  • Nonfiction > All Nonfiction
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    At first, when he smiles, it warms your heart. You spend the rest of the day in a daze, thinking he smiled at me. Me. It was me who he was smiling at. Me. Then, every time he sees you, you feel a tingling, right at the pit of your stomach.You’re confused, and you don’t know it if yo...
  • Nonfiction > All Nonfiction
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    Dear Windows Internet Explorer, Our relationship has been strained for a long time. Of course, it’s not all your fault, nor is it all mine. Our intermediary is also to blame: my hated Gateway (insert string of numbers hidden somewhere on the computer’s body, necessary for purchase of any soft...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    When she thinks she’s right Her mouth curls up at the corners Milk pours from her breast Stinking and curdled Filling the child’s mouth with bitter disgust Not unlike the feeling one gets After eating yogurt That has been spoiled by bacteria Or seeing the cheese drenched in mold ...

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