Most read stories

Squishy

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Martin named it “Squishy” for two reasons. The first reason was because it was the noise it made when it came out of the hole in his basement. The second is because it’s what it did to Grandfather...

A Country of Husbands

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The first husband was young and lovely. He had a little nose and long fingers he used for things like planting begonias in my clay pot. I did not do flowers. So that was nice.

Independent Living

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The transformation in their domineering, sour mother revised her children’s memories of their childhoods.

Silent Summer

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It's eerie. There are no birds. My friend and I take our morning walk in a bubble of silence.

Night Swim

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She wrapped her legs around him. His hand barely held the rope and later he could not have said if it happened above or below the water’s surface.

Escalation

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Don't fall to sleep.

13 Halloweens

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1. The Walking Heart Attack Man has two outfits. In the summer he dresses in a short sleeve checkered button down shirt and high waisted Bermuda shorts with sandals. In the winter he wears dark pants and loafers with a gray corduroy coat…

American Triptych

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It’s always fun and easy/ to punish the poor

Worry

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I turned on the television last night, and one of the networks had a segment about a girl with no nose.

Some Kind of Change

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She was flying back in the morning, returning to a long-distance boyfriend I believed she had cheated on while she was here but didn’t ask about because I thought it would have been too obvious and somehow ungentlemanly.

Europe, 1960

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The painting was on loan from a gallery in Chicago. We stood there connecting the dots.

Headstone III

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My only brother. Frantic flesh clings to bone.

The Misanthrope Confesses

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I murdered my inner child/ at 7 and neither denied/ nor confessed the act until now.

Epitaph N+1

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We die in order to get some rest

Toward a Critique of Everything Existing

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You got a lot of people, out there

Prompts

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Write a poem in which your father is a dog and you are his leash.

Aerobics 6 p.m.

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Dizzy but still alive Inside this conversation I ask if you have a sister And if she'll know me If I'm with you.

DRIP

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...you lick you ice cream, little pink tongue like a cat's, flick, flick... lick fast, girl, the heat's gonna melt it...

Cripple

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"I know," Timothy explained, "he can't use it. He's a cripple." No one else seemed to understand.

Men Respond to Women's Tennis Grunts With Armpit Farts

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An armpit fart is a simulated sound of flatulence produced by creating a pocket of air between the armpit of a partially raised arm and the hand, then swiftly closing this pocket by bringing the arm close to the torso.

The 2nd poem.

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You came to me In the self made calm Causing quite a storm You want me to rejoice and relax? Not knowing my fears Shall we ever fly?

NAN : A Novel-In-Stories

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My novel-in-stories, NAN, is now available as an ebook for $6.99. Thanks to everyone who read the first 7 published stories here on Fictionaut.

Battle at the Bodega

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Mr. Lowell knelt down and put his face in his hands, his knees quickly covered in blood. Sobs.

Hard To Know You Can't Go Back

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The light against the nylon walls of the tent gets me feeling a little down. The air's wet inside, but it's warm. The whole world outside is creaking and chirping, everything that wakes up with the dawn's first tepid blue light does so and starts making n

Witness

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The violin hung on the wall after that, a witness.

Diptych for Saint Gertrude of Nivelles, Protectoress Against Mice, Rats, and Mental Illness

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So she set about eliminating the problem, all the time recalling some newsmagazine program she’d seen as a child: a discussion of hantavirus, nasty and deadly and spread by mice.

Where the ocean ends

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For my Dad Happy Father's Day!

The Bird King in Love

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1The Bird King has fallen in lovewith a radiator.He adoresher pockmarked skin,her neurotic arias,her coldness,her impulsive warmth. 2Tiring of his dalliance with the radiator,the Bird King woos an armchair.She's amply upholsteredand groans dreamilywhen he sits on…

Summer Reading

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The summer everyone read Faulkner, I read Hemingway. Out of spite.

Phil's Last Stand

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Phil was scared. Not of his own shadow, but of the three men from ConAgra who'd dropped a duffel bag of green outside his den the week before.