Most discussed stories

My Man Wears Cherry Pants

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My man wears chartreuse shoes.! He wears chartreuse shoes like a new king right there on Main St.!

Stations of the Cross

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“Jesus fall the second time. You want a map? Ten shekels.”

The Hostage

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My mother should have been a minister or a peace officer. Instead, she was a homemaker who ran the home like an agency. There were certain hard and fast rules.

Unnamed

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The child was delivered, set to breathing, and whisked away before Fae Anne could even catch a glimpse of her.

Three Small Ekphrastic Objects

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Agamemnon and Menelaus were/ complete creeps. Achilles was// a pompous piece of shit.

Beyond the Wire

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Thistle and cracked corn were thrown to us each morning and the occasional live chicken...

1987, What I wanted

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I wanted to watch, for as long as I could, until my innocence, like balloons, disappeared from view.

postcards from penelope

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fun fact: a doll's legs will twitch while being scalped but only for just a little bit

Proper Grammar

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Another thing about Dysthymia is how I get locked into a thought, a needle in a record of a song I can’t get out of my head, a song that drives me crazy until I hear it again, until I play it just the amount of times to where my brain is satisfied.

Turning Tricks

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The magician was bereft. What's a magician without a hat?

Neatly Creased Newspapers

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A thin line separated her lips, like something sketched with a pencil.

A Brooklyn Tale

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"Everything except food and sex."

Three More Micros

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Three micros

Girl

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The tadpoles flipped on the brown mud bottom. She dipped one out and held it near, seeing it in her belly, shaping arms and feet and a small, blond head. She set it back and stood, breasts out, arms up. The ducks in the weed, eyes hard like hungry boys, waited for bread.…

1993, What I Wanted

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Two-way conversation with God.

Birthday

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...

Friendsgiving

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Everything would've been copasetic except about the time we got down there they put the turkey in the fryer..

The Freelance Assignment

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You wanted to be a writer. Now you’re a writer.

The Art of the Ruin

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The ghosts run before/ attacking horsemen. A heart/ is ruptured by a spear.

Drifting

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it's all a bit like the quiet steam drifting to nowhere off my microwaved hot coffee in the sunflower mug

Hobo Junction

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“How much is stuff worth? Stuff man! Bling! Cargo! STUFF! What's it worth to you? It ain't worth a shit, man! Clean clothes! Comfortable shoes! A ride! Those things are important! But they’re only stuff.

Counter intuit

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I I I I

Three Sentences, Adding up to One Spectacular Disease-Ridden Bed of the Broken Hearted

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1.Oh yes, I'm just kicking around in the leftover moon dust you could say I'm certainly not waiting around for your satellite feed anymore certainly never ever hoping to see if your free falling hair strands still look…

Snatch (6)

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"What?"

Breaking News

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We are our own pathogens.

Parts

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Trigger warning: casualties of war.

for want of water

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you shimmered me with attention

Wattle and Daub - 2

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~ ! ~

Ancestral Flashback

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...

Dark Horses

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I'm in Joel's front yard when I dodge the third call from my divorce lawyer. I'm here for Joel; I can't seem to show up anywhere unless it's for someone else. We watch his son, Andy, push his bike up the hill. This is the…