Most read stories

With Respect to a Fellow Poet

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We do not all love each other for the sake of our shared art, apparently.

The Turning

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A brief colorful season/ and then the fall as winds/ break the hold the leaves have

The Cat Pulls No Sudden Punches

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and springs its ready-made claws into action and takes a soppy chance that things will probably go its feline way today. But you, my friend, must you always throw the testing switch to high voltage on me? Yeah I get that the history teachers…

November

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You sleep in equative lip biting slumber hugging a pillow you think is someone else.

Sunday Morning Series- 5: On Divine Intervention

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What does God find abhorrent?

Henry's Night

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Henry recognized the shoes. “There’s a little vampire came in with those on, but I last saw her over by the juice bar.” He couldn’t be bothered with Arthur’s “sections.” The club wasn’t that big that it had to be defined by sections.

Will Your Relationship Survive the Holidays?

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For eight years I have been living with a man named Darren Fletcher, who I will refer to as “Bud” to preserve his anonymity.

Credenza

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Now the house is empty of romance except a potted flowering plant from my mother for Valentine's Day. No man has set foot in my museum since I moved here. One man has set foot. The owner's brother to see about the gasket under the toilet. The Comcast installers, twice. The…

Some Advice

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Justify your metamorphasis

Cat Haikus

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You have more names Than a Spanish grandee. Your lives I’m too envious to count.

No Ideas but in Things?

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Forgive the doctor/ his hypocrisy -

what time is it really is it?

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. . . the roar of fire speaks lasting heat . . . .

The Fake Humility of Stars is a Terrible Thing to Waste( in Three Recycled Parts)

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F Bomb I am coming in like a blackbird. Like I'm going to tickle your mud. I am coming in carrying a half-sunk message backward. Is that your lonesome answer? I am coming in to sweep for all saints. 'Course I didn't just wake up…

Instructions Found in an Empty Can of Coffee

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If you find a lone, sad honeybee, buy a Habitrail cage and make it your new pet.

Here is the thing. No one knows what it (actually) represents

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beyond knowing that when it hits you, you've been very much run over, and flattened like a stack of cardboard pancakes. I've seen it all before, and it works all right I guess. But my oh my, my, my oh thank you Jesus, to…

The Broken

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A precious heart unfolding the joy within Carefree play marked footsteps skipping along the way Such wonders untold awaiting a time of promise Stilled in the night by a grasping hand Held down in silence fear feeds off this soul Marking its to

Assiduity Twenty Six

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Uzma and Luv are . . .

Men Go to Great Lengths to Woo Reclusive Poetess

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"‘Man-hater’ is such a harsh term,” she says. “I really like it.”

Regina Road

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I took a left, it's less safe

Uncle Max

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Before Uncle Max died of a heart attack, he had some words of advice for his only nephew and godson. Upon his death, as instructed, a package in brown paper arrived at Jeffery Glimson’s house on a warm June afternoon.

Thanatos Collective

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the cocksucking of strategic death planning

red lights alone

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before five/glancing down Academy Street/sloping west to where the tracks crossed/twisted tangled metal on wheels.

Braque

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“What’s this? What’s this? What’s this?” said Pablo moving from canvas to canvas. He was stunned.

Journey

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my pilgrim tongue on the map of your body seeks sanctuary

June Cleaver Faces the Implications of the Integrated Circuit

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The Cleavers were never really undone by anything. Everyone, however, has a limit. June manages it all, as usual, with her characteristic grace, lovely crinoline - and a bit of manipulation.

Border Town Dawn/There's a Momentary Cloud (Reach for the Sky)

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Border town meant one thing; we were caught up real good in the middle of something preternaturally dangerous; and understanding was at the very least a hundred miles or so away in either direction. All I…

Five Million Yen: Chapter 53

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I am beleaguered by duplicity.

Picture of You: Song

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Here’s a picture of you Lit up by the internal light Of the moon. It was a Super moon that night And the story of God Had not been told And we had to wait a good Long time to hear it out in the cold And I was the King of Fishers

Ennui

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I've done the math, it didn't count. All the days and years of endless boredom. Of waiting for the next best thing, trapped inside your mind like a lifetime prison sentence. Maybe one day we'll be free, maybe one day we won't feel so oppressed. But when does that day…

What happens when you listen too much

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It's definitely not her pretty face that made him smile so quirkily when she returned in the evening.