Most discussed stories

It's Not Enough

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I'll never forget the way you tasted that last morning that I ever saw you.The blurry eyed look on my face as I searched your bed for my tshirt, and you in a hurry because you were already late for work bending down onto the bed and grabbing my chin the…

Bronwen, Painter of Miccasukee Street

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Walking in the just-thereness of afternoon, Scrubbed out by the Tallahassee sun, Past the same Shocking banana trees that have been The most dramatic occurrences all year Since her move from the north, She thinks we must stop…

The Panda

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“Maybe she will like Boo-Ba-Loo, the large male from America,” they said. So they shipped in Boo-Ba-Loo and put him in the pen next to Ding-a-Ling.

A Man, a Market and a Mayor

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He sat on the floor and said, "I found this letter W in the jungle. It's b-b-beautiful,"

Why the World's Fireflies Are Being Counted

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We got Bob Dylan on the wall wriggling from the lack of music and light among the spheres A great doubt has been raised and can be seen from far, far away for they are even afraid now in heaven that things can’t be going right and to

a writer's plight.

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contact. intimacy. human fucking connection.

Fray

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Someone set a pig aflame.

Meal

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When they tell you to choose your last meal, it probably hasn't dawned on you yet.

The Dingos Took Your Baby? So What--the Coyotes Ate My Cat

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Coyotes are like the French Resistance in Casablanca. If you kill them, hundreds--thousands!--rise to take their place.

Twister

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“You know this is your death car.”

Mermaids Need Other Mermaids

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Pauleen tries to split open her legs because she doesn’t understand how to love someone without them.

Boise Poetry Slam

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The boy buckled in and told his mom, “No mommy, I can do it myself”

The Seduction

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You beckon me with an aperitif. The Kir Royal tingles, its bubbles tickling my nose. Its subtle black courant pulls me into your smile. I drink from your lips the champagne-tingle of your kiss.

I Was a Gigolo for a Fruit Fly Database

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All I need is a break; to meet a woman who has access to a fruit fly database, either personally or through a trust established by her fruit-fly collecting grandfather.

Gateway to the Continent

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I got to Victoria station at quarter to eleven on a Friday with nothing but a small leather bag and the vague idea of getting out of London.

Above the River's Edge

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On the plains there are no cliffs, no vast mountain ranges to persuade us that we were somewhere above the world. Yearning to escape the pull of the Earth was the big dream of a plains boy…

arhythmetic

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these three remainders you, me and her are the legacy of simple math and boolean logic, not so much

Insatiable

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More and more, as she watched him slide away from her in increments, she thought of that first summer together. How his searching hands would find her, any time of day, and pull her in for closer examination. How his eyes, his mouth, his tongue would set

Gothic Clockwork Apparatus Man

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an awkward stage between glued popsicle stick marsupial, and mechanical tin foil mammal.

Mai Tai Daze

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Some people hate Waikiki. Not me. Most hotels had lounges with live music, either inside or around the pool. Evenings were spent bar hopping up and down the strip, Kalakaua Avenue. The bars stayed open till 4:00 a.m. It was safe to walk…

The words you are known by: To Mitt Romney on the eve of his national convention, a cento

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I'll tell you what, Rick, ten-thousand bucks? [But] let Detroit go bankrupt. I'm running for office for Pete's sake,

This Story Has No Title

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They watch her, scald her skin with hot eyes whose stares run up and down her body like lice.

In Dubai

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I do not know the species of birds here. / The two I see playing on the balcony at night / I can never call back.

First

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“I can’t believe you went ahead and got pregnant without me,” I said.

The Longfellow Bridge Diaries: Part 2

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They sway from his hips, the torn knapsack, and the corners of the pushcart

Falling

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Sometimes when I fall I see a ...

Test Results

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Six weeks, four thousand dollars, and twelve hundred miles later, I figured I was done with the cleansing process.

Confederates

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I knew I spoke out of turn when I asked my father's old friend Charlie Jobe what he thought would come of moving to the veterans' camp, or "Village of the Deranged", as the newspaper has since taken to calling it. That was their description after all the

Boys Who Do the Bop (from The New Yorker)

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Enid closes her bedroom door when she changes her clothes but leaves it ajar when she's doing her face; is she hoping some small talk might reach her dainty ears?

Carmencita and the Virgin

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It's blues, bars and boots since you went away. You were wiferustled like sheep, like cattle.