Most discussed stories

Seeking...

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I'm subconsciously a sucker for guys who are no good for my self-esteem. Or waistline.

(4) Caution

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“You shouldn’t have gone inside,” he said, after she told him what had happened. “I know that’s what you’re used to doing here, with people we know. But he’s not from around here. Don’t go back over there, okay?”

Masquerade III

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. . . he's of mixed race. Along with European blood, he's got Mexican Indian and African blood. Here's the irony. He don't look nothing like a white European man but he thinks like one.

I Have to Tell You

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‘Sometimes I look down, over this railing –’ —cars zipping tiny and soundless, the roads curling and the roofs speckled with white-hot skylights, dark mottled patches of repair, no stakes, no people, no noise – ‘ –and I consider jumping. Sitting on

His First and Only: A Love Story for Halloween

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It was the woman, Mary Lou Compton, that he cared about. They would've been happily married by now if Bryce hadn't killed his Uncle Ned.

Gilbert B Fumbleberry

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“You know, Miss Viv, I love looking at the sun when it’s almost gone. It kinda looks like an orange and apple squished together. Those are the colors. And the puffy clouds under it look like a bed. It’s going to sleep."

On Deadline

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She placed the glass in front of him. It made a light thud on the counter. She started to walk off, but then she turned and considered him again. “It’s a little early to be having lunch, isn’t it?” He looked guiltily up at the clock. He had

The Telephone

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Stop talking the phone is asleep. / It is a resting wounded animal. / It is old and made of machines.

Healing Romance of the Rose

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The dying rose spoke to the wood That kept in it's heart a love of good And all that was in bloom It could not let that happy rose Fret about in terrible death throes Would not be its tomb.

Slices of Matisse

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still the water's insurrection continues, transforming the room into a silent crucible whose pure liquid melts our voices and surges above our heads.

The Hound

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I would be the mortal to hand justice to God. It wouldn’t come in the form of steel from a blade or by gun powder of a revolver, but by my disbelief...

Star Crossed Anglers

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“Got a big one boy! He's movin' real fast! Don't think he has had time to eat the bait just yet, so we need to play him out. Let the hook set. Don't want to loose him! Get the net ready!”

Tired After Looking for my Voice Recorder for an Hour

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I wrote a million lines of poetry last night. / Metaphor after metaphor of your beauty

Village of Humans

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It must have been then and in those days and during that time when the grass and short brush, like so much amber and jade, emerged from the snow and the poet Li Po, who while traveling within the ten thousand crags of the Tanggula Mountains, looked up…

The Continuous Yearning of Walter Rush

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Every morning when he wakes, he lies in bed and waits for one of his toes to twitch or spasm; the moment he feels one of them thrust forward, he gains courage to test his legs. He grimaces either way: one more day of walking, one more day until loss, one more trip to the…

Penultimate Vampirekiller for 2024

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". . . Stinkin' vampires, death to all of ’em, them and their plague-festerin' rats. But the new ones, I don’t mind takin’ ’em down before gettin’ rid of ’em. —But you’ll never get that smell off o’ you if you use only one condom, I’m here to tell you . .

Laundromat Haiku

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Laundromat

Intro to Rock Poetry 101

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He was the Elton John Distinguished Professor of Lyrics, the last man over the drawbridge before they abolished tenure; he didn’t have to do any original thinking for the rest of his life.

Arcana Magi Pure Vol.7 - c.3

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After the Cooking Club and Sayako formerly introduced themselves, they all stood before the sisters, listening to their story. Ren took a puff of his pipe as Ayane pressed her hand over her chest and Sayako took short breaths as her heart raced.

Skull and Bones

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“Okay, so I'm lying naked in this coffin with my big dick out,” George W. Bush says. “Yes!” …

Message

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When the telephone rang the fallow fields we lay in years ago became distant countries, filled with falling stars. The distant country into which you had disappeared became a pistol with a single bullet in the chamber.

Countdown

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I’m twenty eight years old, and I am dying.

Never Said

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We're at the Park Diner. My dad Tommie is sitting across from me. He looks haggard, tired. His skin is pasty and washed-out. He's not talking, so I'm not talking either, but it doesn't matter because it's hanging there between us.Cancer.Motherfucker.“Don't look so…

Like Picasso

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lying back on inviolable sheets, your breasts spread apart like a child’s open hands you’d look up at me and smile

Neverfull

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Neverfull There are still things out there I haven't seen— a mere tadpole blindly clinging to the base of the pond. I reach for every star in the inkwell but none are close enough— even on toes tickling the edge you'll never…

I Can Sacrifice My Self

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The sacrificial tendency is a real ugly one A pound of flesh, because it grows back But gnarled and scarred For you, So you may smile or cry Whatever you need How about an ounce of truth? How about I make a maze And you walk through…

Jeremy's Crane

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I saw magic for the first time when I was eight, on the day Jeremy Chendo showed me that paper cranes can fly.

Blame It on The Good Stuff

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That was nearly two years and a thousand smiles ago.

Meet Cute

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This had the unintentional effect of me picturing her in a tight white top and tiny orange shorts. From up close like this, I had clearly misjudged her earlier. She could definitely be more than the quirky best friend in my movie.

POTATOES

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The hospital was a welcome relief. A short ambulance ride, a nice man holding your arm in a make-shift tourniquet, the red sirens flashing and screeching. Then you were…