Most read stories

Dear Andreas,

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Dear Andreas,My mom is asking me to come home.They found you amongst the ferries, down the street from the pile of unearthed bedrock I lived on as a child. It took two months before you showed up again. You left everyone scared, running to the bridges, but there was no one.…

Doesn't mean I love you

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I’m practically naked; coral sundress, very damp panties, black with lace insets. I know I still smell like pussy.

I'm Writing

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More and more, incoherent masses of letters scroll through my mind. Ideas struggle to form. Flashes of images flit rapidly in front of my mind’s eye. There are fish, mountains, presents, forests, mirrors - a menagerie of meaningless symbols march pas

Mountain Country

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I’ve always missed the mountains, but I didn’t know it until I saw them.

Slipstream

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Moments before they had been holding hands, but when they turned the corner and she told him she did not want to go down the dark path he had turned also, into someone she did not recognize and could not understand.

Sink, Sunk

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the moon's got it out for the far-sighted punkish usuper supping on the upswing of a downward slope

Two Dimensional Beings

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Now, both the feline and the infant have abstractly different levels of cognitive function. But, they both share one thing in common. Neither of them have trained eyes. Sometimes, both the cat and the baby will track the same invisible object across the r

Me and Sid and Tom and John Yount

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True story

At the Crossroads Bar

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An eye patch waits aslant his passenger seat.

The Song of the Jardin Venus

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The place is a living rebirth, And all death is only temporary. For soon in the land, the soil, For soon in

They didn’t read Pitchfork or Stereogum or Gorilla vs. Bear or Hipster Runoff

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They didn’t read Pitchfork or Stereogum or Gorilla vs. Bear or Hipster Runoff, only glanced at them, not enough blaise in reading, but skimming kept your credibility, thank god those sites now posted more and more videos. They didn’t subscribe to VICE

The Green-Eyed Shwemyethna

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Moon-girl spins around & around drunk on her outrageous momentum as if she could make the world rotate on its own fables.

The Object of Desire

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I was born to be desired, stamped with the insignia of my creator, and folded in precious, shimmering materials. If the fate of my co-createds holds true for me, then this covering was further covered with the name of my creator, printed on materials too rough ever to touch…

Cubicle Genie*

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At the TV station across the street two sports team mascots are dancing and miming for the cameras. There are some young men wearing baseball caps at the viewing window simulating sex acts for the cameras.

Amputee

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He is my daughter's son and his father's worst enemy.

A Theology of Anorexia

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She always told them that she had eaten earlier, that she had had a big lunch, that she wasn't hungry. "Leave me alone," she cried, running from the table to her room. This anger would burst out of her, so sudden and so total in its transformation--from t

Adults at Home

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The afternoon my little sister won her first U.S. Open, I was also busy, having strenuous sex with David Solemn, a man I’d met earlier that morning at Dunkin Donuts. We did it on the white living room carpet in my parent’s new Connecticut house while

White Bread

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Brian takes off his size eleven shoe and shakes it out on the table.

I Hear You & Other Stories

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All the attractive women in the building had secrets. He wanted to know their secrets, but they wouldn't say.

Losing (Valentine's Day Massacre Poem)

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Paid and laid, they leave.

The Blue Bird

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The blue bird tapped at my window and pecked my crumbs. I talked to him as to a small person about the things of life, of flowers, of trees and the sky. Even at times pretending he was erudite, I questioned him about evolution and extinction. He looked at me as if he…

Paper Elephants

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Every year people came from as far away as Des Moines and Halifax for Elephant Day. They came to see the elephants.

My Rat

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Today I'll make the call

Sharp Was the Blade: chapter from Ari Figue's Cat

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You do not open the wound all at once. You do not slice or cut or slash. You stroke, as a lover's finger strokes the skin of her beloved. You slide the blade lightly over the surface. You do not think, I am hurting myself. You do not think, pain. You slid

A Quite Literary Catfight

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Cavett asked McCarthy what she thought was overrated about Hellman. McCarthy–never known to mince words–replied “Every word she writes is a lie, including ‘and’ and ‘the.'"

All the gaping mouths without a voice

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"Mammy, why do they throw sand in our eyes?" a girl could be heard screaming from the 30-foot-deep ravine, Babi Yar.

The Look

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He looks in silence and he looks with longing.

A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte

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A woman is fishing in the Seine at the far left of the painting, while time is suspended and light remains. One man plays a trumpet. A half dozen people sit or walk under parasols. Couples stroll and children run or sit or stand beside their par

If I Kiss That Girl

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Because she is waiting, seated on my hotel bed, making comments about my sonic white toothbrush being a vibrator, telling me she's bi, gorgeous with her poly-amorous discussion and long brown curling hair, with her fawn-like face and delicate breasts, wit

Brian Epstein's Letter to His Mother

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All that loves green produces green.