Most read stories

The Serious Writer’s Obituary

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...was discovered today hanging from a shower outlet in his bathroom...

Popcorn Tigers

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The last row of furniture is all black leather. In unison the tigers hop onto a couch a piece, sit calmly on their haunches, and reach for remote controls buried in the cushions. Roaring, they paw at the remotes.

42 Mirrors

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What becomes the identity of a woman who has been denied all her rights and thrown into a mental institution?

Six Down

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“You own your own burial plot, but you don't own your home,” he'd said, and I couldn't help but agree.

The Thousandth Day

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She pictured the President leaving the hospital a few days later, hobbling on a cane. Jackie beside him, Caroline and John-John dashing from a waiting limousine. He couldn’t die. She’d looked into his eyes. John F. Kennedy spoke to her.

Orpheus Today

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It is only seven-thirty but the night is full, gloom seizing Highway 66. There is a carcass on the road, maybe a human, slumped next to an empty ice cream truck. Several stars hang up in the East, drunken constellations scrambling to find meaning.

Until We Died

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. . . hot sand and quiet ocean only.

Abject Horror of Objects (ELECTRIC DELIRIUM 1.8)

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Rosey streaks through the city, dragging a flooded umbrella.

The Big Name Buttons

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Pay attention: our names were Bobby, Didi, Joanie, Mitch and Sam. It was popular in those days to wear big name buttons across your chest, and we’d line up side-by-side as we watched our reflections affix said buttons, anchoring them to our stiff lapels

Drive-by Neighborhood Fiction Flash

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It's about dinner time. My neighborhood is in Sa-bur-bia. Driving my gold 2007 Malibu i pass Chick. She notices me and stares standing in front of her house. We were friends about ten years ago. Chick is still divorced. Tall skinny legs. Educated blu-ish eyes. Wet…

last light

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whisper to me

for my part

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I fear osiris with his feather rising to meet the raven in mid-air they will turn to look at me decide if I go through the door of no return into fierce landscape on my knees I will crumple into the foetal…

A Brief Conversation With A Man Who Fell Off a Cliff

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I asked him where he hurt and he said everywhere.

God's Vial

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The porous bear the anchorite’s vial

The Dream Shop

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From nine at night until five in the morningthe mannequins staff the Dream Shop.Customers sleepwalk in and murmur their enquiries.Some of the patrons are very demanding.They queue outside before opening…

Tokyo Girls in Science Fiction

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Let’s say you know so little about me. Like whose idea of a joke to name me Hideo for excellent male. Or why I hang out at triangle Park, ogling expatriates or crusty punks.

Water Break

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Whenever you act as if you're one of themit makes perfectly sad sense tome; you are one of them; we're supposed to believe there areno shadows in that particular choice? When you areone of them, they say youfall asleep with a peaceful droopinglip to your smile. When…

Beneficial

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Had I said something before, she might could have saved a little face by telling me to go to hell before we tumbled into the covers. All right. Again, I was no gentleman. Send me to hell. Whatever. I lay there on my back, my arm around her, and listened t

Van Gogh: Sidewalk Cafe at Night

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The heart of those stars is a dab of yellow light. The darkness of the blue night appears so deep because the downward strokes of the actual sky are interspersed with a violet that’s almost black,

In Paris, The Sweltering

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Then dared each other to travel Much further

PUISSANCE du PISSANTS

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Not like a Palestinian mother clinging to her baby shot through the belly or the baby clinging to the last moments of life in the arms of his father who, when the life departed, held him up over his head

Eyes Without a Face

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It's tough when muscle gets in the way of memory. The way pain is the only thing I can remember about certain things. Fifth grade, that's what I think of. I think of pain. Not just abstract pain, not some we'll get to it later adolescent angst or ennui.…

Nineteenth Century Noise

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The virtuoso tortures a violin/ in homage to Paganini.

Arcana Magi Wisp

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Gon found himself slowing behind everyone. His wings slowly tired. The bird took a chance and pulled up. He could feel it behind him.

Human Spirit - a poem

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It feels for an exit.

Wild Dreams of Reality, 8

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Darrell and I pulled into my driveway after being out all night long. A slash of sunlight fell across the purple Mexican sage beside my front walk. Except for the birds in the trees, there seemed to be an odd serenity to the air — until I spotted one

I fall out of love, learn not to worry, and get ready to embrace the foreign war...

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Love hurts... Really.

Occasional cloud

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And she tried to laugh, to justify her half evasion, to dismiss the memory of their vitriolic breakfast conversation.

The Polymath

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Now that I am dead, my god will fight your god...

Not real words about a not real place

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I'm going up and down elevators all over the Financial District and I have no office.