Most read stories

Late Bloomer

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It was ridiculous. We were only in 3rd grade. How can anyone know at that age, only eight, that Judy F. was the girl he was meant to be with for the rest of their lives? But that was how Stephen O. behaved. As if they both already knew this, and they

faking an orgasm

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There’s an account of roasting inward, holding myself like a rock inflamed, my inward joy rotting my veins. How was I supposed to go on loving anything after you? Like a pigeon hated at home, awaiting your passionate kisses? Knowing how your classical k

Grey Zones

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There are these unspoken zones,where everybody is corrupt,and everybody is a con artist.Half the people are frauds,and the other half are phonies.Each person trying to outwit the next person,while everybody else tries to pick each others' pocket.Simultaneously and…

Beggars Banquet

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When I was a boy and just out of seminary school, I went to a Doors concert and heard Jim Morrison sing his song ‘Soft Parade’ – it changed my life.

Dark

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Slowly, she eased me into my place where I melted into the dark seat

The Town Drunk

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“Living rooms,” said the town drunk, “are incapable of emanating.”

A mere second is enough...

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This was why the man on the bicycle was still in time to turn his head to her because he thought it was his sister who lived in California, because she wore the same jacket and in his inattentiveness almost ran over another cyclist.

The Black Hole Cometh

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A few months back, Bob Delaney, the old Black Hole’s man with the plan (and more importantly, the check-signing authority), hired a young new guy named Gary — who had the unfortunate last name, Indiana — as a geriatric nurse at Bufordsville Retirement Com

Saved (Seven-Fingered Jesus)

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Believe me, I would run if I could, but there seems to be a low haze of molasses clinging to my ankles.

Their Day

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The lace fell through the fingers, wrinkled and nimble they had become too used to avoiding the finite objects in life which needed attention. The white cotton sat loosely on her shoulders, the collar exposed the skin which had become dry and her shoulder

Shouting the Muse Down

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In the tumbled-down now there's too much material, culled from pretty boys that don't notice me and tattooed ones that do, and I'm certain there's at least one dreamer soaking eyes into me who knows all the twisted lyrics invoking pretty little horses.

Of the Terrible Angels and Their Fleshy Conduits

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Other pathways are more satisfactory. They are more closely attuned to music of the other world. Even so, the heat eventually burns them up.

A Winter Gift

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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.

Epic struggle between right and wrong...

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The day was yesterday, November 11, 2010. I was home from work, and I pulled my car into the driveway. I stopped short of the garage to get out of the car and get the daily mail. Bills and unwanted coupons for places I didn't go and for items I don't…

How We Open Doors

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-- as if I had / only rung the rusted bell --

Abby

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The music is too loud in here and it's hurting my ears. I know some of the words to the songs because my older sister listens to the same stuff when she's in her bedroom and is playing her iPod and my dad yells at her to turn that crap down. I like my dad. He calls me…

Poetic Emmy's #1

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I’d like to thank no one. But especially my first love in life For putting me through hell With all her lies and eternal sweetness Toward all her many leading men While maintaining she was virgin Until she met me. What was the point? Ah, y

Dreamless

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We call it the alley of the shadows, the low sunless concavity of earth between the stalks, the acrid scent of the ripened arrow-points.

With Every Word

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The bedroom was still as our conversation dissolved into a heavy silence broken only by the ticking of the clock on her night table and the occasional sob that hadn't yet been swallowed in her pillow. I stubbed out my cigarette and leaned forward in…

Rediscovered

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Remain in repose, a little longer.

Elevator Music

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Of course, no one can control what goes on in an elevator.

The Magic Treehouse

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It was an unseasonably warm day in early spring when I first saw the man in the treehouse. The boys had just climbed onto the school bus, the older with shoulders hunched, weighted down with the gross unfairness of his early adolescent life, the younger still scribbling…

First Things Go First And End Up Being Last (the Big Enough Picture)

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I don't have to show you how to fly. I don't even know who you are still possibly trying to be in this crazy grounded world. But the words make us family. I can't help that or what you might do with that public tweet tweet…

Love and other entreaties

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it’s okay, you can come inside me

The alcohol is on my mind, on my mind, on my mind

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The alcohol is on my mind, on my mind, on my mind

leyh (they say)

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and then he began to sing, along with the ghostly villagers

Junior League Therapy

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She laughed as she stuck up the word flaccid, it kept falling down

Breaking And Entering

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Do you know what it is to crave something? Of course you do. But this was different. This was beyond craving.

Away From the River

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Tiny poem

The Night Madison Brooke Burned Alive

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She told me it had been there since she was a kid, this large black spot like a blimp floating from her right arm up to the tip of her neck. She had really pale skin so she kinda looked like a cow strutting down the street.