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This is the poem you leave behind that you die in the middle of.
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hangs inverted and
begins a swirling motion,
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My mother should have been a minister or a peace officer. Instead, she was a homemaker who ran the home like an agency. There were certain hard and fast rules.
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On our wedding day he carried all of the furniture out of our small bedroom, created a sanctuary.
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He stood with the bride of quietness / on the precipice of questions
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The girl lifts my head, and I sit up straight once again. She hands me a pair of old work gloves, helps put them on my swollen hands. She wipes my face with a wet, warm towel. Her thin arms tremble. She cries. I cry.
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Summer, Spring, Winter, Fall, the Good Lord made them all.
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Lying in the blissful glow of young television.
Idly sleeping, eyes open and ears closed.
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instead of gun metal deceit, sounds of malice;be a drop of rain.
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Welcome back to our ongoing coverage of what we mean when we say "Tsunami: A Very Bad Thing."
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Her Majesty’s Glasses
Umbilical Chord
Linger Finger
Okay Inkjet
The Dragon Flies
Horny
Free Spirit
Good Footnote
Buttery Clams
You’reUp
Empty Bladder
Star Butter
Karmic Impulse
Mr. On-the-Ve
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But you don’t know how to fly, Bunny! How ever will we survive?
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It’s just another
Day where I feel tired, but I
Don’t know why it’s so.
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Ok, so I know this guy, he's a friend of mine. A good friend, even though I think he's left too big a tip on the bar more than once. His name is Frank.
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Irony is written sarcasm. Sarcasm is spoken irony: the opposite of what is meant. Catholic irony in fiction seems deeper and more related to theme. Protestant irony starts with P as do other þing.
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I still wake up with a start to this day, remembering the sound of that squish. And the cheer from above of all the brutes hanging out the open castle window. And of course the roar of approval and delight from the hordes of Chinese, Russian, and Germ
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The Campus Socialists
Paul and Mary Jo lived in an apartment at the top of a long, dark flight of stairs that were so high, I remember as if it were yesterday thinking, the night she pushed him down the stairs, he would surely be dead by the time h
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Next morning the thought crosses my mind of snapping Mom’s neck, making sure she’s dead, and then running down to the sea to drown myself.
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This is a very impromptu piece written at two in the morning based on a prompt from Meg Pokrass, who insisted the following words be used: fussyhairybloomingslipperyflutterdamppaleweedsyanking “Maxfuss” was his password, which was appropriate,…
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The particles of dust didn't want to be looked at
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His nervous cackle makes me sick - Oh, if only - Times were different - That knife - Would fit so nicely in his back
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This story is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental and unintentional and should not be inferred. (Really!)
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Betty had been looking for a distraction; the lawsuits were out of control. Her last nonprofit, Faith and Life Children's Organization, had run into some difficulties due to the recession and the obvious result of trying to do more with less. Why couldn't people…
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As a boy, he had little hope of ever becoming anything.
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Most women simply don’t want damaged goods. That’s a fact I’ve been brought face to face with throughout my life. It's something you can continue crushing your brains against, like an impossibly high hurdle. At first you take the damage without unde
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The Moon The hatch of the lunar module hissed as it opened, a few puffs of leftover water vapor escaped toward them in a sparkling white cloud that rapidly dissolved…
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"I'm just saying," the older man continues, "We oughta be ready in case she hits."
"We'll be fine," the woman says. "We've weathered every storm that's ever come through here just fine."
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"Well, you certainly can't be marrying him then .. "
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