Most read stories

Off Island

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There were only six passengers aboard the small ferry...

Self Inventory

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Life, like a kite string, is slipping out of your hands

astral ages

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Life in astral circles

#2 Feeding Fire (Poetry)

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It is like truth on the battle field. Muted

Beach Busker

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I fondly remember those warm, weekend evenings at twilight on the beach. After the frolic of the waves flattened, sending the surfers home and, after the last bait was spent, sending the surfcasters away, I'd set up the little, foldable, 3‘x4', rectangular stage I always…

Private Red

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Your favorite nickname existed only in the bright red cherry smoldering at the end of your smoke.

Cornelius van Linjpleel's Contributions to the Study of Etruscan Tombs

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Cornelius van Linjpleel discovered and excavated for himself a lone Etruscan tomb not far from Populonia in 1898.

The Dry World

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drunkards indulge, addicts abuse

Band Names For Sale. Inquire Within

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Mythical Itch and the Unicorns Working Late Jacuzzi Floozy One Erection Diego Rivera’s Poncho Frieda’s Moustache Avalanche Babushka Dolls Photographic Mammary Drool Sir Gruntsalot Uber Rubber Iota Pie Elder Geese Ladylike Rud

The Hound - Part 3

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The bullet split her head in half before she could finish her sentence. Her blood sprayed out onto my face and covered my lips. The taste of life as it suddenly ended.

Sounds like leaving

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chains across all the old doors

Migrants

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She is too stylish to be crazy, is what the migrant probably thinks. And he's right.

Cigs,

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They teach that emotional pain is physical pain, culture pain is science pain, but they cannot test for the absence of these synaptic conclusions. I will say, if you can test me and find something missing then you can supplement me for the missing thing.

Running In My Veins

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They say that inside the veins of every Bohemian lies an entire army of dead alcoholics. I suppose this is true of me too.

The Old Dog (in response to Brian Warfield)

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Blend the dog a drink and sit down beside him and draw straws for regrets.

Seascape

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1. Walking here with you on these narrow strands of clean air & imagination

Summer, 1995.

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I am no different to her, living seven days ahead of myself, looking forward to looking back, as we Irish do so fondly

Desire

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She said “I have to go”, he answered with his eyes “Don't” and they stepped closer to each other in the kitchen, a step on the tiled floor, the remnants of their tea cold on the counter top.

to a gregarious stranger

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Three lines.

Homeless

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blueberry tea and vodka on a Friday night

'MY DICK IS SO HARD FOR JESUS!' by Christofascist Jones

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"Now, I'm not no Holocaust Denier . . . I just think it was a little bump in the road! Like Reagan said about Watergate . . . 'Mistakes were made,' and all. Well, shoot . . .…

Can Bone-Munching Zombie Worms Help Fight Childhood Obesity?

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President Kennedy’s national physical fitness program tried to reverse the incoming tide of obesity, but for many it was too late.

Polo

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“You look strangely familiar,” he said, taking a drink and swinging his leg over the horse, landing on the ground beside me ...

Flamboozled in the Beak

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I was looking for an inn to get a cup of calf soup before jacking ribs at the mutton joint. Feng calls, running numbers on an engine zone out in the valley.

Tootsie Roll

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I can’t decide whether I want to be buried or cremated when I die.

Mob

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He is leaning back against a pillar watching the dancing; a spectator to joy – both planned and spontaneous – that’s unfolding in bodies fourteen and fifteen years old in front of him.

Pinnacles

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Pinnacles State Park lying on our backs stoned on hash around a campfire looking up at the clear see-through blue green stars to the other side of the universe I know now you are out there I float up to within 2

Rent a DNA

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“Yo, Paciorek. Lend me your DNA, cuz I left mine on the farm, and I have a test tomorrow,” Feller ordered in a commanding voice, because he had gumption.

The Rest of the Story of Mom

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Easing her hand with her other hand.

The Sweetness of Youth

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On my twenty-second birthday, in the spring of 1979, I had a crawfish boil, my first. Ninety pounds of red mudbugs on a picnic table spread with newspaper, my birthday cake sitting at the end of the table like an afterthought.I hadn't…