Most read stories

The Sodomized Dictator

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Ghosts.

After Bukowski

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The night she left she claimed she fucked Bukowski.

Rags to Riches to Rags: Prologue

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My grandfather rode with the Czar’s army. He was abducted from a village in Austria, trained to pillage and drink, plunder and rape, and ride the best horses that could be had. They were given the best vodka and the sharpest swords. They were all just boy

A Facebook Love Story

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This is a story about Jim and Robin. They are strangers. Or at least they were. They are at the same party, but standing on opposite sides of the room. Robin is standing near the door thinking, “I wish there was someone here to talk to,” when she sees Jim. …

My Other Mother is a Ferrari

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******WARNING: Long-ass story****** Click at your own risk.

Who Is Don Galt?

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Don Galt’s butterflies swallowed Peter Robinson’s holdings on a cool and cloudy December afternoon.

The Last Words of a Genius

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The crowd gathered around the dying man's bed, waiting for his last words. He was a genius. The most prolific writer and philosopher to ever live. He wiped his ass with the words of Shakespeare. The thoughts of Plato, Socrates, Descartes, and Nietzsche w

Miss

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On Saturday mornings, by noon, the delivery car comes from Boston and unloads fresh bread and sandwiches, pork ribs and ground pork stuffed inside of breads and buns and banana leaves, bean shakes, and sticky rice desserts.

Nevertheless The Plan Was Not Implemented

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Thomas Friedman was right when he said, “Much of this biodiversity in Indonesia is now under threat.” It had been this way since gasoline became currency; I remember bartering with The Governance for the newest edition of The Guinness Book of

Foo Fighters

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Without a charge on the skin of the plane, we were struck by the bronze colored orb. Contact was brief, and it seemed as if the orb passed right through the aircraft. Despite the shielding of the equipment, most of it failed. We managed to land by "dead s

Le Sucre Brun

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The commandant pried her lids open with steely thumbs.

Simmer Time

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Usually the predawn light means bedtime for wicked guitar players, but not that bloody Sunday.

Often I think on who pulls the strings,

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In a plush leather chair, / high up a shiny skyscraper,

A Prayer to the Porcelain God

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In her cleavage, Mark is able to discern a golden heart with the image of an arrow piercing it. A bow is super-imposed over both. “I see you are a devotee of Cupid.” Mark states. “I notice that you are a follower of Bacchus.” Diana winks.

Eleutheria

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She watched an inky cloud suck all the color / from the trees.

What Einstein didn't say

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First you must accept / the speed of light as constant. / If you can’t do that, stop reading.

None Of It Grace

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I made him stop at an AM-PM. We bought a bag of barbecue chips and a yellow rose. Those days, we were testing our keels, sloshing against whatever rose most wicked. On the way to Beth Anne's apartment, we passed a man on the shoulder heaving a couch back

Dinner at the Bigelows’

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Mrs. Bigelow loaned Tessa a black tulle maid’s uniform and helped her pin it in at the sides. She tied on Tessa the stiff white apron. Slippery, pale, opaque stockings of real silk oozed through the girl’s fingers, secured by a heavy satin garter belt

The Fault In Our Three Stars

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So there are these teenagers and they're all dying of cancer, or at least were dying of cancer, or might be dying of cancer, and then a couple of them fall in love and lose their virginity to each other, and these teens, they're all smart and charming and only a little…

Clover Grill: A Short Story

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I'm somewhere on I-10 in Mississippi, barreling westbound at 80 miles an hour through a rainstorm on a late Wednesday afternoon. The last road sign I remember was for Beauvoir, some Confederate general's…

Cactus Subconscious

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The voice in the sand: "If it has soul you must funk it."

The Hole Between Them

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Opposite the foothills, on the field's southern edge, was a stand of old eucalyptus trees, each one a gnarled sentry with bark like burnt skin peeling from its trunk.

Phenomenology as Snapshots

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The fluffed-up clouds, darkish in spots,/ are moving fast, opposite the wind/ where I stand and look. Equations// could describe the multiplicities

Anhedonia (excerpt)

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Things have happened. It’s a given. What, are you crazy? Of course things have happened. It’s the world, for Christ’s sake. Things are happening. I am consistently missing most, if not all, of them.

White

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“White,” he says. -- “Black,” I answer.

An MFA Creative Writing Essay Question

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7. Using Cohen's Method of Structure craft a piece of fiction featuring unexpected conflict. (12 points)

Jack Kerouac, Republican Party Hero

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Mr. Kerouac is the author of On the Road, Big Sur, and numerous other works that defined the Beat Generation, and he's the foremost drunken writer of his time to embrace conservatism.

Women Making Love to Monsters

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I started dating the Minotaur because of Colleen; at the time she was going with a friend of his. The whole thing was a surprise to me because I'd never been attracted to Greek men. This is how it happened. Colleen's new guy, Ian, was known by many…

Life of the Mind

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Days went by as I stood in the woods waiting for a tree to fall, and when none did, I determined the universe is cold and indifferent and that man’s only hope is to buy wood chippers.

Dunes

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I went out through another cold still morning erasing my steps behind me not because I did not want to be followed but because I did not want to find my way back again.