His knife enters the Maui onion. He minces garlic and applies heat to pan and melts sweet cream butter and browns the garlic first and then he adds the onion and more heat, but it's time that will surely caramelize them. Salt and pepper and splashes of wine for the pan and…

Is it victory or madness

Emi however, took her sister’s arm and looked at the bandage. Her normal green eyes stared coldly at the wound made by one of the large centipedes. Mayumi realized there was some sense of emotion from Emi wanting to come out.

The Sports Illustrated Swimsuit issue just came out, and all over America librarians are flipping through its pages and rolling their eyes. The swimsuit issue, which isn't actually about swimwear at all, but, is, instead, about young, beautifully shaped female…

Alessandro was no ordinary demon (what demon is?), insofar as he had Constable Pulce's number. In demonly fashion he had Pulce's number in a way Pulce himself did not.

I can confirm nothing/ but impressions of the world// that appear beyond my/ body’s reach.

We learned to dance beneath a gazebo / in Spring Lake Park / We were fourteen

Oh no, here is that Whitman man I’ve heard he is a bounder. Don’t look his way or catch his eye- Just get another round, dear.

Poppy de Witte was content to spend her summers in Cape Cod, where her family owned a small beach house considerably less stifling than their spacious apartment on Park Avenue.

I bear the wrong gin. Your air conditioner runs cold. It is either frigid or off, the gauge broken. You are not too old to overlook these things. You can't be choosy, but you will never beg. Just an occasional choice as you settle into this…

Robbie Lange closed his laptop and leaned back in his chair. Yawning, he looked out the window into the black night. Another evening at the office, he thought. He counted the other lit windows in the skyscrapers around his building. “Goodnight, everyone

The Numbers will never romp up the stairs from the laundry room to slip warm socks on your feet on a winter’s night.

What's the weirdest thing you've ever used as a bookmark? I work in a library. I've seen that, and more.

She’s there, in a tin, loosely wound beneath sepia tissue paper, a braid to worry in your fingers.

This weekend was supposed to be about intellect and soul-mating, but, like all others, it's turned into body and longing. You sit in my passenger seat and I let you smoke in my wee car with the windows rolled down. We've come from a wedding, a fairy ring, a…