Most read stories

Overheard While Buying Tires in Willits

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She breezes through the door, cellphone to ear, with the confidence of the affluent. Can you look at my left rear tire, the dashboard indicator says it's low. Back to her phone, Oh, Marsha, hi, how are you, you gorgeous WOMAN, you!? Hey, I'm on my way to…

Infinite Penis

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He finds a beach ball and recreates humanity upon it. Kicking it down the shore he wonders how the little people must feel about each other. To place them on such a tiny globe almost seems unfair.

Toothpicks

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27 words with title.

Last Night, I Had a Beer with God

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"So" he started, which troubled me enough to turn back around and make such focused eye contact that I did not even notice his glass was again full, "you wanted to talk?"

The Lost Meaning

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of any cautionary tale is somewhere found rolling around in your own sweet voice for me. Your sound's still listing there inside my wobbly head. My head is too often in my open hands, grinning behind its face-mask like a parade on…

Desperate For A Good Leg

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Of course the man went tumbling, and though he fell not far, a falling with a body full of meats and sweet breads makes the landing something awful-not so bad that Desperate got it-only so the leg puffed like a blue, rain swollen, earth-bound cloud.

Let’s do something with this

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No way was Robert actually surprised that hewas competitive with himself, but there was something way more concrete about this. Instead of hand wringing, there was someone, Bob, that he could punch.

the ethics of graffiti

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Rescue

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I wake up with the taste of mud in my mouth. Ashy, sulfurous, charred, with traces of rotten shellfish.

New Homes / New Fears

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How would you like to leave the land of your ancestors, the place of your birth, the home of your identity?

drinking buddies

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Tonight, Bukowski and I drink together.

She lets her intentions guide her

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“If 'neighbor' applies to women who covet—'deliriously desire'—husbands from Angers, then one day he'll be your husband's neighbor," I say.

Death

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Do you think we die when we age?Or when a car runs over our hearts?We die slowly, minute by minute, every secondBy the time you read this, you've died a little

Meanwhile

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I saw/ star shine in/ my silver pail

Cutting Rhubarb in the Rain

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Tendering these stalks, making the pie, heralds me a holder of apron strings...

Being In Love Is For High Schoolers Or Middle Aged Divorcees

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But who am I kidding. We aren’t in love. Being in love is for high schoolers or middle aged divorcees exploring their sexuality. Our love is real, sweaty, backwards, forwards, angry, trusting. We love as you only can after seeing someone at their best and

A Thought for Emily's Sleep

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Your precious feet were there once, pressed against the familiar floorboards, where your poems suddenly appeared to you, flashing like lightning. I wonder which window they came in? Here's a thought: you were like that window. You caught…

Wesson

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I'm not. I am.

Claudine

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She lifts her head, nose heavenward. There’s a wet spot on my dress from our lovemaking, its aroma as heady as Claudine’s bouillabaisse. I hope she smells it.

Wheelbarrow

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He was ready for the rub. Tense. She could always tell. The legs, the shuffles. He had to be frantic before he would come to her, his own wife. Vanity, fright. She could read him like a book open on the table, turn his pages the way a fish flakes. "It's comfort night,…

air

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i flew

Escape

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Lothario Jones rounded the corner and skidded to a stop, trying to catch his breath. He was in a tight spot. The Journeymen were still hot on his trail. His Danger Pistol was out of radium pellets, and his once-full Bag of Tricks was now empty ...

David

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I keep encouraging him to write stories not poems, but I think he enjoys writing things that don’t fit together. Things that stumble.

Nope.

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Can't cope. Got no hope. Got no dope. Call the Pope. Get the rope.

stoplight - (haiku love series - #2)

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stoplight - (haiku love series - #2) eyes lock in a gaze glimpses of my future spark then you walk away

The Promise

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Conjoined - her hardened nipple brushing, softly, against him, his chest hair caressing her skin like a thousand hungry lovers’ fingers – the perfect moment lasted eternity.

Not Yeatsian

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Didn't he have like a frog No lips so speak of, and the weathered lizard Look of the frequently face-lifted?

BEFORE THE NEBRASKA SEA

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The unfanged obscene had finally caught him in the night.

Strange Fruit of Unrewarded Labor

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Poets are more like Jesus,/ suffering the cross

Flipping Off People With Romney Bumper Stickers

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“Hey,” I begin, a naughty smile breaking across my face before I can get to the punchline, “Want to drive around flipping off anyone with a Romney bumper sticker?” Kaleb chuckles and beams at me. It seems everyone likes a good girl turned naughty.