look there instead
Poetry Contributing Writer Poetry Contributing Writer

look there instead

look here, they say,
but no; i want to look there,
my focus firmly fixed upon things
not so crowd-gazed. 

look there with me —
glistening, intricate mosaics
painstakingly crafted
in the arches of the museum stairwell,
unnoticed in the upward or downward rush
to view the expected. 

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There's Something to Learn from Playing Cards
Contributing Writer Contributing Writer

There's Something to Learn from Playing Cards

Whenever I see a deck of cards, poker chips, or talk about Las Vegas I think about all the memories with her, my siblings, and my grandpa — enough memories to fill a book or two — and can’t help but smile.

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I Wrote a Letter
Sheri Reda, Poetry Contributing Writer Sheri Reda, Poetry Contributing Writer

I Wrote a Letter

I was married and happy and not looking. But I went out on assignment to help him cultivate his fields, and something wild coursed through me. Something not cultivated, at all. I ended up writing him a letter:

I want to fuck your farm.
I want to curl my toes in the brown clay,
mash the wet soil under my arches,
squeeze the juice out of the squirming underground
and watch it bubble up out of the mud,
and over my heel,
and out from under the balls of my feet: musky.
insistent. warm like arterial blood.

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Perfect Stranger
Contributing Writer Contributing Writer

Perfect Stranger

What I wasn’t prepared for was the perfect stranger, an outpatient, who I would meet later that day.

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I'm Not a Writer
Contributing Writer Contributing Writer

I'm Not a Writer

What makes someone a writer anyway? Like now, I’m putting my thoughts onto this screen like I would tell someone if they were sitting right in front of me. Does that make me a writer?

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Group…oh come on!
Contributing Writer Contributing Writer

Group…oh come on!

Sean and Ellen met on Bumble. Their first date was a standard drink at a bar in Roscoe Village. The date lasted three hours and the conversation flowed well.

Their second date was for dinner. The night went well but then, the bill came.

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American Shithole #47 | Red Fish, Blue Fish, Fuck Fish, You Fish?
American Shithole Contributing Writer American Shithole Contributing Writer

American Shithole #47 | Red Fish, Blue Fish, Fuck Fish, You Fish?

But first, before they throw themselves like chum to sharks, every democrat must apologize.

Right. I can see why they’re all lining up to get it out of the way early. The hypocrisy of singling out moments of stupidity every well-meaning democrat must now say they are “sorry” for, while this criminally incompetent president sits atop a mountain of bullshit, deceit, cruelty and treachery, is likely hard for them to stomach.

It’s like comparing parking tickets to pedophilia.

Take the gloves off, Democratic Party, and start swinging like you’re fighting for your country’s life — because you are. Stop fucking Gillibrand-ing each other; stay fucking unified.

Remember the Al Franken!

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American Shithole #46 | The Beautiful Things: PBS
American Shithole Contributing Writer American Shithole Contributing Writer

American Shithole #46 | The Beautiful Things: PBS

Look, I’m a statist. I’m hardwired for cooperation. I like societies. I like the things societies provide. I don’t think it would be better if society collapsed and I had to shit in the woods every day.

When I think of PBS, I think of the very best our society has to offer.

PBS: Because nobody really likes to shit in the woods.

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