Most read stories

The Paris American

19521952 views44 comments22 favs

He returned to America on the Fourth of July. Twisting in his cramped window seat miles above the Atlantic, he buckled up before the descent. “You can handle this,” he muttered. Hungover, still reeling from the dreamy head-turning experience of…

Three Thirds

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"I was hit by an Amtrak train and dragged a hundred feet, and I'm going to die from smoking cigarettes."

five discards or less

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weep or go stark mad your amanuensic fool will bury your words

Hymen

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For me German was a school subject. For Hymen, who could pronounce German but not speak it, it was a poetic technique or element, shorthand for what ails the world.

Hobos: Paris vs. San Francisco

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French pee runs stronger, less minty. In France the world' a pissoir.

Yakkety-Yak

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Last night, the station played me a dream of sexual promiscuity that included -- but was not limited to -- imaginative acts involving....

Dick Be Gone

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One thing about being a musician—more specifically a drummer—struggling against the cost of living—more specifically the cost of living in the Bay Area—is that I will do just about anything to earn money.

Dog Days

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The air is dry and smoky from a fire some miles away. The air is cool. A pair of vultures is soaring in a circle high above the rising land.

haircut month

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The same night your best friend of two years called you up to tell you they don't want to think about you anymore was the same night you had stood silently, leaning, head against the mustard wall in your mom's boyfriend's house, stuck listening to Randy…

Life of Charlotte

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A wall of icons can be beautiful if you don’t look closely at the hands. The hands tell stories of too short lives and unrequited love.

Arcana Magi - c.20: Compelling

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Danica paused for a moment as thoughts of going to Avalon Tech changed to heading for Mystic Intelligence. She could not understand why she thought about going there.

The Sky-What Limit?

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Lighter-than-air flight was back. The skies of the coast were alight with colorful balloons, dirigibles, and zeppelins tethered to their docking towers along the beach, the huge aircraft bobbing in the breeze up and down the coast for miles,…

Folded Up

19511951 views1010 comments88 favs

Time to pull in the shining teeth, but it makes me so sad, you know I'd rather be holding hands. The others have told me, don't hold back, hit them with every white knuckle, and let them bleed out, I'd rather be kissing your face. It hurts,…

Suspended

19511951 views99 comments88 favs

In the beginning the revolution was all motion and energy. When the President for Life resigned motion and energy disappeared with the sounds of clapping hands.

Albatross Antics

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Track One Johnny Burkemeister, lead vocals and flutist of the band Albatross Antics, sits on his bed thinking in silence. His elbow rests on his knee, and his palm on his forehead with his fingers running through his dirty-blonde hair. He is staring at a copy of Paste…

Did I Tell You I Have Stripes On My Socks?

19511951 views88 comments55 favs

Kids are fascinated by me. Adults look the other way. Maybe it's my size. Or maybe it's the stories in the newspapers.

As Pleat

19511951 views1010 comments66 favs

I turn up the music and slip into drone, rock it like a tunnel in canary. When that does not erase his face, I cup my breast with one hand and let my hair fall.

Encasement

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A universe, all of it, was encased in glass.

I've Got a Secret

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There's a man sitting in my room holding a jar of my ashes. That's what he claims.

AA For the Suicidal - alt.punk extract

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The drive back to Sac does nothing to sober me up, either, and although Avaline and I are ready to hurl, she takes me to her afternoon support group, “Lean On Me: A Place for Manic-Depressive and Bipolar Sufferers to Come Together.”

The Unpublished Writer and His Love Interest (The Painter)

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When the writer expressed with subtle alacrity that he adored the painter, she was flattered and didn't raise objection. The writer-in his aloof manner, with experienced caution-pointedly wrote a poem directly for his muse. She never spoke of it, and hi

Antigone Détente

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Tan my hide. Feed me to rabid / macaques.

The Lonely Genius

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was washing her hands and lookingin the mirror and hoping tosee someone who could tell herthe way home again. She wasn'tsure why she should want to go there except maybe to findthe missing piece that had alwayseluded her. The lonely genius puton her clothes but the…

Wrong Number

19501950 views77 comments33 favs

The package arrived, delivered to her work as was her preference. She took it to the ladies room and sat on the lounge, carefully opening the box, removing the new black patent leather FMQs, pulling out the tissue paper stuffed into the toes and placing her well-worn…

FAMILY VALUES

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that is a fair description of our family if I add the disclaimer that the girls are whores and we don’t have much in common.

Confessions of a Liturgical Voyeur

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...when she spoke, her voice still seemed to spill bourbon from a heavy crystal tumbler, and drift cigarette smoke in a dark paneled room.

The Atlantic

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Phoebe-Lou Adams wrote this of them

The Chicken In A Can Incident: A Cautionary Christmas Tale

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Don't feed it to the dog, it has bones, it is a whole goddamn chicken in a can, and I can't stress that enough. Besides one year you gave me a toilet seat for Christmas. I couldn't even eat that Ky

A Natural Consequence of Things

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Belief is a hammer, like saying the mind is a piece of iron.

Gazpacho

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It's a pretty strange feeling when you think you're about to bite into some ice cream and instead it's gazpacho.