Most read stories

give me a real moment with a living god and I'll go all the way

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I remember, when I was selling real estate, how you could always tell when there'd been a divorce. One room was conspicuously left emptied of its contents, and these rooms were never swept or tidied. Instead they were left just as they were when the par

On a Sunday

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It is always midnight in my heart; / and melancholy advances from handsome men / only take place in my mind...

they in that eternal room

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And while they sat and while we danced for them, they in that eternal room of theirs, illumined by late sunlight, or moonlight, (or the lamp in your bedroom,) our skin moistened with oils, glistening… each of us shining as we turned, emitting littl

The Construction of a Deep, Black Void

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The faint stars began to twinkle in the orange and purple sky and the clouds turned to watercolor and the window became a painting.

All Stories Need An Ending

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Drugs, after all, once in the system, demanded unfalteringly more drugs.

The Man Who Loved Purple

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If it had a surface, he painted it purple. If it didn’t have a surface, he painted it purple.

You Do Not Exult Over the Held-Out Heart

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You can’t know everything you want to know, about anyone. (Especially about me!) You can’t even know everything you want to know about Sharon, and I probably know more than you do. In fact, I’m sure I do. For instance, did you know about that guy

Rootless

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[This story is not racist!]

Here's my problem

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I was a reasonable two year old. I truly believe this to be the case. My memories are somewhat vague I will confess. My perception may be tainted by time and my spongy, misshapen Id, but everything I know matches with everything I have been told and it leads me to this…I…

Floating Just Floating

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He didn't know why he kept writing. There was no reason to write. People ceased reading. They played video games. They watched Netflix. They walked down crowded city streets staring at smartphones. He was sustained in some weird way by the momentum of writing. As if the…

Supermarket Blues

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Man on aisle nine looking for the answer to cancer Will the partially clothed couple on aisle four please put the rest of their clothing back on If you are finished doing whatever it was you were doing? Man on aisle five trying to imagine Whil

Mondo Ben

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Two girls in vests hogtied his ankles and wrists with a severed lamp cord and barbed wire, spun him dizzy around the room.

food-cheated muscles recalling their sex

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What a world I imagined! Lacking organized armies, resting at noontime under a canopy made gentle by passing, natural creatures with large warm eyes, set afire by the influence of constant lust and destruction. Turned to marble by love. Who wouldn’t wan

Meet Robert Grady

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Robert had chopped his hair and grown a soul patch since I'd last seen him. He was tanned, the hair on the top of his head was spiked, and some gray specks were creeping in on the hair on the side of his head. Had…

questions, alas

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If in one instant of follie I plea to you What am I? would you then not ask yourselfwhat are We?Would you think maybe We are oneand I would ask to you my loveCan One, then, be transformed into Two? What is left of one after the sum?Can two be touched or…

Van Gogh’s Ear

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A drunken evening, both men soused and twitchy. An argument ensues with Yellow House roommate Paul Gauguin. The two dissing each other’s work like clicking beetles

2 Queers on a Seaside Bench Discussing the Ocean

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An impromptu anniversary weekend up the coast.Our hotel was parallel with the highway, which was parallel with the aforementioned bench, which was parallel with a footpath, which was parallel with the shore, which was slowly eroded by the Pacific. He was sitting on the…

No Party, No Disco

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Ninety-nine to one would seem good odds

Mother of the Earth

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On Terry’s eighteenth birthday (the summer of 1966, the same year you graduated from high school, and the year I broke up with Sharon) I took Terry out to Fox River on my dad's ski boat, and opened up my robe and showed her all there was to show of myse

Tragedy, Ecstasy, Doom

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John 1.46 "Berkeley! Can anything good come from there?" Bilbo asked. "Come and see," said the ring.

Bleached Mutiny

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The geese are smart

Monstrous Thing

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It's only just a poem. The good that's in us is us. There's a monstrous thing trying to get out and ruin things. To unbalance everything standing on tiptoe. To end the dance. To grab the moment and burn it down flat to the ground. They are…

As a Film Cassette Enters a Camera

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"...only images I can know,"

Sometimes It Rained

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He always felt safe with a gun in his hands. Back home anyway. Russ was from a rural part of South Carolina. A place where you could brush the humidity away from your face with your hand and drink down sweet tea in glasses so big, it cooled your toes. He was not…

Don't Eat Cheese Before Bed

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Proudy's head thumped to the burnished brass-accented oak bar and rolled through a multicolored gaggle of parasol-sprouting cocktail glasses, scattering akimbo their umbrellature like a drunken stagehand lumbering through the set of Mikado

Sparkler [Trashcan Flash]

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I picked story starts out of a trashcan and compiled this thing.

is it a visible, or invisible thread?

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In another dream I am you and I am giving birth and the pages you have written are flying out of me one after another and appearing like speckled moths near the ceiling of your bedroom, and they have my eyes and some of them have yours. A soft singi

A Visitor

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A man came to my door today. He said little and invited himself in. He only stood in the doorway, a bit menacingly, if you ask me. He was dressed very darkly in a long grey coat and hat, and seemed bent on not allowing the light of day to pass through (he

Salesman

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A salesman, a born salesman like my brother, is always and only involved in the Moment, and it is the sale itself that is at the heart of the moment, and my brother Harris was really at the top of his form as a salesman. It can probably best be said, th

bramble

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i don't know