Most discussed stories

After Detox

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When detox-man drives away, the windows down, the radio playing on the classic rock station (The Eagles), he thinks about moving out of town.

Residual Flashbacks

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Residual flashbacks; just tiny bright lightning bolts that flash in front of my eyes, just like standing watching a soaring bonfire on a cold and frosty November night, pinprick sparks flying up into the endless darkness of the night.

Cathy

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"Merry Christmas, Willie."

Chancing the Moonglow

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It's become sort of a habit now when Elsie's husband is away on business two or three times a month that we take the afternoon off and drive nine miles across the river to Marginalia, Arkansas and the Moonglow Motel with its red, neon vacancy sign and although to some, two…

pop music till yer brains bulge blue!

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every color of sound turned to green / human beasts’ treadmill tastes must be trained: / we may yet starve to death, but we’ll die de-brained!

Girls with Guns

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"My dear man. We are not friends we are symbiotic."

Lost In The City

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They found it naught however as it was lost at metro stops, canceled appointments and in ever dimming light that failed to reflect what was instead of what could have been.

It makes no difference

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So I'll throw in ten.

Happy Birthday Sian or How to Fall in Love

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I learned how to fall in love, in one hour, watching The Waltons. John Boy fell in love with Jenny. Jenny fell in love with John Boy. It taught me the right way to fall in love. It taught me the right way to let love go. I was 12 years old. It was a lesson I…

Lives and their rivers

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The pristine Hudson's/waters dance in the dark of/the East River's rinse.

Rescue

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I wake up with the taste of mud in my mouth. Ashy, sulfurous, charred, with traces of rotten shellfish.

The Way is Dark, the Road Long

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The day I got out of prison the sun was shining.

Shadow Play

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I read it all wrong. In writing her novel, I thought Marilynne Robinson was writing about twins — writing, in some way, about me. Instead, these characters, Lucille and Ruthie, were standard sisters, one older than the other. In fact, Robinson explains th

Fiction with Teratoma Preserves

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In Nebraska, we found a dead man lying between the furrows of a field. He’d been there awhile in the heat and the sun, the only shade provided by a cloud of flies. The dead man lay on the ground, decaying, disappearing into the dirt:

Afterglow

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The drone of radio seeps into the car’s back seat… I hear only bits and pieces of information –

Not Lao-tzu's Yellow Brick Road, xvii - xxvii

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—indistinct and foggy, my eyes lost at sea, confined to a horizon not close to land.

Abre La Puerta

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My daughter, now four, can count to 15 in Spanish. How old are you? Cuatro. How old will you be on your birthday? Cinco. She likes Dora and thinks Diego is weird.

Ribs

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The moun­tains of humil­ity went silent, / the rain of regency dried its eyes

fake letters in reply

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I did do one nice thing for you

Me And My Liberal Friends

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“Thank God The Yogurt Store Was Open!”. I knew this would cause cynics to seethe about me and my #FirstWorldProblems. While those less with the times or from many years of vanilla ancestry, might become racist themselves, indicating that I was suffering f

Ghoster

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Ross, I've been a ghost hunter for almost 10 years now and this is a place I said I WOULD NEVER NEVER EVER go to!

Truths of Matters

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            “Is truth real?”—what a time for such a question to emerge! Such an elementary question, too, a pity no one was asking it two days ago.

Notes Via The Coffee Shop

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Biscuits and gravy. I'm off today, I'm lazy.

Washed Up

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At noon on a weekday in the off season, when the trickle of tourists who wandered into the Mermaid Curio Shoppe had died out completely, she walked in with wet hair, leaving tiny puddles on the floorboards.

Yard Man

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It seemed there should be more tongue, so I started more, getting closer, and disguising my interest as being personable and caring about the yard triangle.

Ripening

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My face turns to promise more, but my insides are browning.

a few of my favorite beacons of hope and tenderness

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life is a lucky thing, bountiful among the drugs and flowers

I Wish There Was A Way

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To still make Emily smile. Even Today. On the street where Paper lives and works I'm Making this small effort out Of a few stray letters and An attitude like a chip On the kicked about shoulder. I don't Know, I think she deserves it. …

Krauts and Doubts

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Moral Dilemmas at Harvard

To Live It Again

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She began guiding Penny’s arms, whispering movements through her body. Memory and experience sang through every fiber of their being. The song had become her life.