And in the dark caves a new secret, hidden from flyby probes and the imagination of men. In these new caves, names for the loved ones, Bradbury, Clarke, Rover

You could hear her coming from a long way off like she kept trying to catch her breath, like she was getting the fun rattled out of her bones. But it was laughter, always laughter that kept on filling up her belly from the inside and she was

With a madman’s laugh, she realized her mistake and discarded it as irrelevant.

It began with the waffles, well first there were the potholders, but really the problem was the waffles. I don't even think she knew she was making waffles; much less that she had lost her potholders in the trash can the day before. But nonetheless the real issue here was…

It was then an angel was sent to provide assistance and guidance. After the first time, with the radio show, the woman could almost feel her presence. When she did not know what to do, or needed help or to encourage others, when her own will and words wer

...the woman of the sun, twelve stars around her head, the moon at her feet.

Late in the morning, standing in line, clutching a bag of Meow Mix, I listen to the woman waiting behind me. She's having a cell phone conversation about the Treasures of Ancient Egypt exhibit. It‘s in New Orleans, she says, and the kids liked the mummy. I slide…

I heard the patron yelling, “Hey, man! That’s my cappuccino!” when the young female snatched it and got away. But the police cornered her a few blocks away, licking the last bits of foam off her wiley whiskers. That’s how they knew they had

He said, “It was only after I broke my neck and even like maybe a year later that I really started realizing that I had something to say.”

He sat behind her in Honors English, each day studying everything about her.......

I had put the child's wagon, which had been red once, back together again. “Honey”, I said, “I found out the garbagemen will pick up concrete this month.” So, I put…

As we follow the trail and things snap beneath our feet, I tell myself that the snapped things take pleasure, find purpose even, in the sounds they make with my soles.

They were once a crown,of some living stag -- not quite old,not quite young: now bone. Something at the cusp of its age. Here they stand, given by a loved friendon a place in my home; smelling, whenI get very close, of time. They are shaped like small…

There is some debate about what kind of twins they are. It’s a fissure between aesthetics and science.

They pumped him full of electricity and waited.