Most discussed stories

Not Death but Decrepitude

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A bedridden ward of the state,/ warehoused in a nursing home,/ unable to drive to the liquor store/ for whiskey and cigarettes,

The Way Home

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I’m in the Grand Central Station bar-- the one at the top of the stairs-- waiting for my husband to enter so I can watch him. The bar is crowded, everyone getting in that last beer before heading back to whiney children and tired spouses.

The Silence of Harold

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It's been sixteen days since I spoke with another soul. I don't mind much, but I know enough about people to know most would think I'm mighty odd. Muriel, for example. She'd be pissed as all get out. …

Flying Tiger

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I screwed my courage to the sticking point and asked him if he had shot down any Japanese airplanes. He grinned at me. “One,” he said.

Why Mr. Doss Had To Die

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He held my little hand in his and guided it through the dirt.

God Bless You, Mr. Rinsewater

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Once upon a time, on March 8, 2011, to be exact, there was a flash fiction writer named Rinsewater who had a novel idea – flash fiction writers whose stories were published by indie lit magazines must be paid for their work!

The Rising Tide

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I'm just a rental dog myself looking for the guardian of starlight peeing on the expired parking meters and barking up all the wrong trees.

Glory Hobble

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I was to limp with stunned, growing horror, as I navigated through the swirling smoke and maze of human corpses...

Écriture de la chatte

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YKK is a zipper manufacturer whose initials stand for Yoshida Kōgyō Kabushikigaisha. A boy told me (and I believed as a child) that YKK was my name in code.

Glass

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Her bulldozer of a husband died five years ago.

December Can Feel Like April Here

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Today the isobars are far apart.

Why I write

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I sprawl, I spill and I splutter

Lule of Raw

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A discussion at the homeless colony under the expressway overpass crossing the river:

In Brief

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I can admire Falling Water and find Mr. Wright a complete shit.

Migrant Workers

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Emma pushes through the door of the corner market, aiming briskly for her car, keys in one hand, grocery bag in the other, shoulder bag slung. Best not to make eye contact with the loitering boozers and bikers from the bar next door. Double take. Can't…

The Cosmos as Gerunds

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There is no there or where but rather/ trajectories of probability

I Wish I Could Say This to Your Face

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The day you came home, after three extended tours in Afghanistan, I wanted to welcome you at the bus station, but I was afraid you'd attach yourself to me again.

Limboland

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She was a forward-motion girl. She never bothered to learn to walk as a baby. Instead, she stood up and ran.

Forging

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Taken by agents of the United States of America, Felix Six-Killer grows up at the Carlisle Indian School near Philadelphia, the city of brotherly love. His hair is cut and oiled. His shirts are starched and creased. For months he is startled to find himself seated for…

Fish

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A woman with spirit appeals to men who fish because she is still alive.

Why We Came to Target at 9:58 on a Monday Night

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Donnie remembers just in time. So we run practically every stop sign and red light in town, and get there just before they close.

A Quantum of Disappointment

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Reality winks at us then scampers off

Jack's

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We're not here for idle chit-chat, or ESPN, or fish tacos.

The Cougar

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How freeing to writhe under someone with more muscles than fat, who could keep it up longer than minute, who afterwards stroked my hair and if he noticed the fine silver strands by my ears didn’t mention them. I forget his name...

Bitter Tide

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I loved without marriage and the men loved without divorce and we loved a twenty-four-year-old eating and how gracious she shone over a tame bottle of beer.

Late Autumn

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Rough sonnet about faded love

Social Aid & Pleasure novel scrap

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the heat and energy it takes

How the Body Prepares Itself

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it corrupts the smells// and flavors of the world/ and plants its swollen face

Mall Flower

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I’ve blown out my shag haircut and it’s big. BIG-big.

Drought

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Where we live, at the edge of the foothills at the east edge of town, fire is always a worry during the summer, and this has been an exceptionally dry year.