Most read stories

woman having her hair combed. Degas

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The nude woman sits straight back, with her hand indented in the flesh at her hip, bracing herself as the comb is pulled through her long hair, with her breasts thrust forward into the light.

Two poems by Mordechai Geldman translated from the Hebrew

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CHU …

Searching

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The sun was bright, warm and blew through my hair like the wind.

Schadenfreude

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It's 50/50 that you'll ever pad your knee enough to ever kneel on it. Your back hurts, the Orthapedist labels it arthritis. I think that means we're getting old, so I crawl up the tower of your body as I'm a little younger, more sprightly. You're a

Rot

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Old, Broken Toys

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A boy sits in a room filled with old, broken toys. A mother is in the next room reading Cosmopolitan, dreaming of a life that should have been hers. There is the zoo and an unnecessary stroller on a very humid day, beads of sweat dripping slowly down a face. A trip to the…

Discards

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Church-lady dresses with matching jackets

Dead Bear

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Most likely, the dead bear would be such a mind-fuck for the building crew that they’d probably just remove it quietly. There could be fines and reports and loads of paperwork involved…news would spread and inspections would follow. Yep, they would probab

Voice of the Past

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You are about to experience a voice from the past. Here we go ... jet back to about 1964. I remember you with the same beard (just a different color!) and slightly longer hair. I remember drinking lots of beer and wine in your basement with Shel

no-name time of day

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"covered in a sheen of sweat, flowers of salt bloom on my T-shirt"

hump daze

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Before you start reading this it is important that you understand that I know nothing about the evolution of horses or camels. I mean, I literally know zilch about which came first or if they are even part of the same family. In my head I imagine one of those charts…

Arrivals and Departures

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Because of her I got there early, and like I figured, the train was late.

Nicotine Clouds and Depleting Oxygen

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I spent the summer of 2001 in disguise;

Clockwhipped

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I now felt prepared to waltz under a K bullet that hits a stucco brick above the tropical hibiscus.

One Night Stand in Laguna Beach

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One time in Laguna Beach I remember sleeping with a girl I met at this café, the Jolly Roger, when we went back to my apartment and had unprotected sex. She said she was on the pill, but you never know. It was just that one time, and she did seem desperat

The Parallel World of the Tango

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I dreamed I might one day become the numero uno tango singer in Boston.

white lights

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the little white lights i see mean many different things to me

Out in the Street

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As kids, we grew up in a city that we swore was suburbia. Nearly every street had a few houses with a kid or two that was missing their front teeth. There were kids we knew well and kids we'd wish we'd known but they lived a few…

The Old Man

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The old man tied his black tie and put on a black beret. His bones hurt, but at ninety-two it was to be expected.

Drinking the Wild Virgin

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I really think we ought to be drinking The Wild Virgin again I remember having a beer once And feeling like a minor god, yes Just like you did So, now, listen to me: if she snores all night That’s one thing But if she screws the lights out

the furrows running with milk light

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I remember the first time you made love to me. It appears I was one of the lucky ones … it wasn’t in a car, it wasn’t in your Dad’s boat, underwater, or any other weird place you've written about. It was actually in your bedroom … in a bed! And how

A Nice Girl Is Like Powder

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A nice girl is like powder, quick to anger, fresh, impudent, too quick to know what expletives fate speaks. It was a cold year for trash talk and sheer silk. And yes, the fox was smoking, who could attract or irritate a nice girl with the same look, a wom

gravelortian part 7

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suck chew sip

Someday

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He called himself Theodore Birdwhistle.

Wonder as the Sum of All My Ignorance

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Questions unanswered proliferate/ across the April sky, blue// with wisps of cirrus white.

Life Sentence

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“I believe it is some form of primitive recreation with a board and wheels,” the one and a half eyed orange blob said with an Australian accent.

Earthquake 4.0

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I thought the dog was up to someting.

Buena Vista Street

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Nostalgia is when memories turn into Gods of knowing who you were.

Sweet Story

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I came back down in skinny jeans with holes in them and the tights still on. Little purple kneecaps.

Ghostwriters!

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(Sung to the melody of "Ghostbusters")When your prose is weakMetaphors clichésWho you gonna callGhostwriters!Characters they speakNot much to sayWho you gonna callGhostwriters!I ain't ‘fraid of no rejectionI ain't ‘fraid of no rejectionLyin' in your bedImagination soarsWho…