Most read stories

We Wore Our Hair Long

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You don't have to push back so hard. We wore our hair long. We wanted the animals to trust us in their wild open spaces. Everything will come undone. We wore our hair long because we wanted to Be able to find our way home in the dark…

Where is Now and When is There?

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The floor dissolves beneath us, pierced by lasered/ glare of countless eye-beams.

Hip-Hop Lit: New and Noteworthy

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Her son was doubtless the biggest wanksta that ever went to Andrew Jackson in the whole crumby history of the school.

Honey Gold

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your light is gonna last me through the week

Everything that's Gone Wrong, has Gone Wrong Because of Football

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I’m not ready for football. I’m not ready for it, but I live in a southern town that worships at its altar more devoutly than those suicidal beauties in James Wright’s great poem.

And so, like a kind of molting

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So for now, let the snow fall, but let it fall gently, each flake as a soft piano note

Raindrops

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'Every raindrop sounds different.' says Barney. He's bouncing along beside his mother, twisting in her hand like warm milk. She looks down at his Big Bear hat and tugs. They wait together at the edge of the busy road. 'How do they sound?' 'Zzzing.…

Soft Coral Siren

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I didn't feel when you cut out my spine I'd been throwing up all night couldn't even smell the rust …

Summerset Bangs from Oldtown

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blackberry pie and huckleberry wine and litte Maria with her summerset bangs

FWA (Fiction Writers Anonymous)

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Sebastian and Janice had been a natural match. They sought to deny this at first because a recovery assistance program was not a place to forge intimate relationships. It worked out wonderfully in Hollywood, but Hollywood, as everyone knew, was just a facade. So…

Joe's Sniff Shack

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Joe's, always smelling of cherry chapstick or the breeze that comes up from subway grates, used to service some of the finest dupes in town.

How Things Fall Apart

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The leaves/ seek reunion with the ground// and leave the oak tree naked/ in December’s cold.

No Flowers in June

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Of flowers there Are none In June No sun Upon my cheek The gentle breeze Stirs me not The smiles They cloud my vision Birds they Sing their songs But I hear Them not When tears Rain down My heaven.

Outside Thunder Pallets

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Carl’s peculiarity of toilet paper rolls is not covered under the Americans with Disabilities Act – he’s looked it up.

Imagining the Reading as Effacement

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What the spaces say// can be heard in the short/ and longer silences

Parsing We

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An excellent plan. Just like old times.

The United States of America

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In the United States of America children everywhere are waiting for summer vacation. To a child in the United States, there is summer vacation and then there is everything else. Summer vacation is freedom. The united states was built on the foundation that one day we will…

It's Part of the Plan

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...and on the eighth day

The Color of Sleep

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Have you ever seen a body of words give birth to a paragraph? I won't lie. It's a little gross. But quite moving. First there is the biology of reproduction. A blackbird living in an electric guitar, for instance, and its inexplicable urge to mate with an elephant.…

This Time

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This time the mountain climber does not attain the summit.

Vesper

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. . . how a body calls in the dark. . .

Her last good year

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“We are NOT starving!” I stated emphatically. “What ever gave you the idea that you are starving? Honestly, Annie, you are so melodramatic. You have food in front of you right now, don’t you?’ I said pointing to her plate of potatoes and so

On Women

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She was prepared

Girl in 'Nam (Part 2)

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A life in NYC was one I always dreamed of but I found myself turning into a bitter, sarcastic person who was losing the ability to see the silver lining in just about anything.

Blue Baby

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they taught art

Darkness

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DARKNESS …

hush

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every timeyou openyour mouthan angel fallsinto a vat of whiskyshut ityou're fucking up heaven2013 - Rene

Purpose

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I gave you two daughters. I gave you four grandchildren. I'm done.

Dark-Thirty

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The smell of garlic, soy, and onions/ exhausted from Skillman Wok/ perfumes December air.

Oprah's Sister Murdered My Story

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Dear Patricia, You look marvelous. You seem marvelous. You've added wonder to Oprah's life and that's no small feat. But, here's the thing. I was working on this short story about a relative trying to get in touch with O, one of thousands, except, this one, well this one…