Most read stories

The Amber Sea

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There is no life here, only a bleak slab of frozen desert and a sorrowful wind that calls for me to venture out.

There is no heartbeat, Mrs Stirling.

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I lost a baby two years ago. At 8.5 weeks after seeing her heart beat. I haven't been able to talk about it, but I can write about it. My throat cracks and splinters when I begin to form a thought or word or phrase. I took such great care when…

Customer Service Circa 2017

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Quantum transport rearranges grandma.

Showdown at the Okay Corral

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I hauled out my Norton Anthology and threw caution to the wind.

Love Thy Neighbor

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The summer I turned fourteen I wanted a job so I could start saving for a car. Actually, I had a job, but it wasn't much. Seventy-five cents…

Scooping the Fat of Time

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I lift up my sweatshirt and reach with a full fist into my belly button. This is where the fat comes out.

BOXES

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Lama’s mother is dead. She died when Lama was just outgrowing her ballet tutus. When Lama talks about it, it is with the air of one who picks honeysuckle over jasmine. It gives sunshine, she says, to graves. Our epitaphs are so mechanical otherwise. Un

Weather Channel Music Writer

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He can become anyone. If he wants. He'd rather not but it's not his choice.

How to Write a Poem in 7 Easy Steps

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1. Research how to locate and outline the chin of a toy terrier. Find a toy terrier, outline its chin, then count the hairs on said chin to determine the number of lines your poem will have.

EAGLE

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It was an eagle in the waves Those eyes make no mistake Especially from a mile high Blue fish and tuna Too dumb to run

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 54

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Frank shouldered his backpack, grabbed the leather satchel packed with his brushes, palette knives, pens, and pencils, and exited the vaporetto at the Rialto Bridge.

Waking Up After a Nap During Election Day

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He is an exercise in humility:What I cannot have or be. The chances of our meetingand his perfection are darkly astronomical. There are plenty of otherswhose riches I cannot have,why envy him?We are similar in spritbut have different fortunes.It is unfair and…

Our Previous Lives - song

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When I arrived in heaven Calling out your name Running just on vapor Leaving my old flames I thought I saw you singing Dripping from all sides Crying like a rainbow Reliving our old lives

cross-quarter days

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sentinels in a frost-blackened field

Acclimation

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Before I grew used to it I would wake to the sound of the Amtrak whistle echoing down along the tracks behind our trailer park and wonder who was hurtling where through the dark night and across this wide Illinois prairie

A Band of Feline Brothers

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I am not covetous for catnip, Nor care where I sleep at night. It irks me not who takes my Favorite chair, or swats me off a table.

Asking an Accomplished Poet Friend to Read My Poetry in a Starbucks at 2PM on a Thursday

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Your usage of the English language / is awkward and passé—

Beer Pong With the Nobel Prize Winners

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Alcohol and American writers have always had a connection–about 70 percent of American winners of the Nobel Prize for Literature could be considered heavy drinkers if not more.

D.X. (Flag Day Challenge)

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Today is my birthday. Well, my assembly date, anyway.

When the buck stops (3-Minute Fiction entry)

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This was looking down from what we know as The Grassy Knoll.

The Breakup

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Don’t break things, I add. And he looks at me like I’ve broken everything else.

Lavender, a Liberal

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Lavender, a Liberal Betty, batty from hormones, in a fanciful fit, named her daughter Lavender. Husband Don winced. Brothers Donald, John, Billy, and Tom were puzzled and pleased by this sister, this girl, who was a little bit like them, yet not like them at…

The Ferry

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The two of them stood at the long end of a pier that cut sharp into an L 25 feet out into the river. It was an old wooden pier that relished in its every crack and splinter regardless of the fresh coat of white paint that melted lazily over the rotting bo

Context and Confessional Poetry

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I like babies and little kids, more than some people but goddamn, children's laughter out of nowhere (in the night, when you're not expecting it) is creepy. I don't like slugs smeared like nightmare goo on my summer-bare feet, I could do without them in …

Arcana Magi Zero + Pure - c.3

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They followed the crow up a hill, where lights were at its brightest below. The teens stood frozen in time.

A Rough Dance

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A young woman is seated center stage. She is pretty, dressed in a short nightgown. She sits nervously, her body tense and expectant.

Eggs

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still curious of the taste of eggs finally licking my plate

Corkscrewing.

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[SOME PEOPLE ARE BETTER THAN OTHERS.]

Lanyards

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theme songs for concentration camps!?

Three Times, If I Count

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Once or twice, it was only once or twice. Three times, if I really count. And I wasn't giving or loving. And my self stayed hidden and I kept most of my clothes on.