Most read stories

Slave to the Rhinestone

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He introduced himself as Jimmy Stamps and shook my hand with the confidence of a man who is Microsoft Windows certified. Reeking of vodka and Swisher Sweets he proceeded to expatiate on the virtues of X

Book of Genesis

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Almost to the elevation of regret.

Fulfillment

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And she's dying like someone who's tried living and failed.

The Longfellow Bridge Diaries: Part 1

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I dared to dream whether she was coming or was she going

May the Glad Inherit

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All creatures know death at their very core, a tacit default--

Dancing Beneath a Gazebo

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

Scene from the Clinic

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No way to know why she's here, but scars and scabs can hold more information than a file or chart.

Cymbals

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On stage, students from the junior college join children from the community to speak and sing in American-French accents. They are timid, heart-broken, in love, rebellious, faithful, resigned to their fates—and all in the matter of a few short hours.

Bricks

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There are things we must not say.

Internet Hole (an excerpt from Psychopomp)

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Seventeen-year cicadas are the sometimes-singers that surprise spring with the ugliest mouths of all.

Any poem is possible

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I wrangle word juice from the Oxford American, sighing at photographs of blues musicians with solemn lakes for eyes.

Pharaoh

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Altodog was dressed in filthy chef’s trousers and a long-sleeved purple dress shirt, somewhat dignified by a tattered black vest.

Hole

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For a person you don't know, a stranger with a lot of place, you think much of him.

Improvisational

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This is not her death. This is absent-minded omniscience. This is impossible. And then again, the inside-out, implosion. And the hall was clogged with bodies; none of them hers, but who could be sure?

Bondage, to the rivers that bind

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Waft­ing wisps of fond­ness twin­kling in time with fairy lights point­ing out lawns in cities

Mnemonics

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I write to make visible my small/ assertions against impermanence.

Istanbul

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They are plastering on lipstick in pay-to-enter toilets around the corner from the mosques, where old men sit on back streets selling toilet seats, spices by the shovel, flashlights, and Audrey Hepburn t-shirts

Where I work you cannot see the sun.

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Where I work people use words like leverage. They do not appear to denote anything.

Stories with a hole in it: Tales from Xanadu -------1. The kite

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U-R, UltraReads is my new concept, an experiment designed to suit contemporary need and taste. The handy tablet-size reads can be easily done from your phone anytime, anywhere in the world. Each one comes together with a visual to make the reading experience more…

Six Points of Light/ Dark Star

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Johan was telling stories about the occupation. The Germans were stupid, he said.

The Conversation Killer

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I stand corrected once more.

Tiffany's Economy

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The world waited with bated breath as Tiffany stood in the grocery store aisle that housed the various kinds of fruit spreads for sandwiches and toast. She tapped her toe and nodded her head this way and that while she compared the qualities of two jars of…

Polaroids at the Old Place

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Can I still be in your pictures?

Sing Sorrow Sorrow

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Lean closer, she smiles, smell my perfume let yourself be taken to a wild forest where owls grow and trees fly.

The Serious Writer Tracks His Stats

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The officers carried him away in cuffs as he yelled "I NEED STATS! PLEASE! JUST GIVE ME THE STATS!"

Carpe Diem

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It's true push often comes to shove

Admit Nothing

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Traveling in half-lit fluorescence, she smiles up at me, pale and strained

wheat field with cypresses. van Gogh

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There’s no sky like that, with twisting clouds shot up into by cypress trees that are so like dark green flames, leaping out of the earth as if a dark green oily pool were on fire underground, and this was all that could escape, was its essence. And a

WOMAN DISPOSED OF

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sex trafficking

The Birds

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My wife goes away for a few days to the little town where Hitchcock filmed The Birds.