Most read stories

The Nurse

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The detective imagined the nurse shake the old man’s breath off his coat as he walked to the bus, shuttering the teak and dust world behind him. He pulled a fingertip along a blue hallway vase, brought it to his thumb, rubbed the grit.

Off The Cuff

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Sometimes words are carved in stone, but you won't find these in this poem

A Condemnation

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I won't read between the lineswhen the linesI'm daily given are half truthsI will take what you sayas truewhenthe truthsuits me as well as it suits youI heard you yelling at him, you knowyou didn't know I was home yet but I wasI was grabbing a package off the…

Doubts.

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It's dark outside.

THERE AIN'T NO REAL GROWN-UP'S NOWHERE NO-HOW by Leanna MacFarlane

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[Huh!]

Passing A Kidney Stone In The Twilight Zone

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A few weeks ago I was sitting at my desk when I began feeling a sharp pain in the area of ​​my back just above the hip. I got down on the floor and lied on my side to alleviate the pain however I could. It lasted about ten minutes and slowly dissipated. Is this a kidney…

Another Band Name

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Hillary's Pantsuits

Things Inside of Other Things

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Determined to make this Thanksgiving more special than the last, she ponders long on how to create a chiduckey.

Swimming with Bow Legged Women

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Sometimes, when possessed by a craving for an ornate day my very thinking becomes florid, cursive, prone to rolling my vowels – dotting my little I’s with a love heart, like an idiot who rows out in a storm.

How the Monarchs Thrive

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At the time, Leanne was meant to be going with Daryll Keyser. She played bells in Mr. Davis’ marching band, and Daryll played tuba. On the bus home from Tulip Festivals, still in their uniforms, they’d do things to each other in 10-minute turns...

Strikhedonia!

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Amen, no more nothingness now, finally the hilarity of a band of abecedarians getting drunk on whiskey and beer. We've been in this place since 11 am, now its December in January On the toilet cubicle wall are words such as Sorry and …

The Secondhand Life of Uncle Ray

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Between chapters, he trained my dog, Buster. He taught him to fetch bottle caps, roll over for no reason, and to play dead whenever someone raised their voice

Ron Vara speaks out at last.

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He’s an empty sock

The Full Treatment

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She rolled onto her back and spread her hind legs. Her lewd poses were fine on a fat cat, but as I rubbed her belly I wondered if that’s what might have gotten her into trouble as a human. I tried to reassure myself that her indiscretions weren’t my fault

pome sequence from an early spring

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Say say say say say say says our I-I-I-me tunes:

Unconditional Unbroken

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It's house has seen every day and every night From its windows stars are born and die

THE HAUNTED MICROWAVE by Stephen King

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[Boy, was this a hard night!]

Statue Of An Armless Woman

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It feels like I'm almost in love with the statue of an armless woman. So white, so much whiter than white, so white it makes you believe you're blind, makes you feel like gnawing the rind off a blood red orangeIn the town square near the fountain …

Living In A Novel

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I walked into a novel and sat down on a rock. The language was distressed and full of cyclones and swells. I could smell embalming fluid and folklore. Everywhere I went there were doorknobs, escalators, and clocks. Objects of all genre overflowing with prose. I stood at …

Death Dreams, by Norman Klein

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My hand falling...

Reds and Blues

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Rain (a sense of her)

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Wacky at Work.

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["Why can't we just look the other way ... ?"-Interpol, on the radio]

George Square

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I Buchanan Street; god strums a cheap guitar. Vaginas grow wet at clashing chords. The primitive civilised. From the city square I sense false profits, zigzag philosophies. The familiar falls…

Second Wave, 1944 (with notes)

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Here were men trying their best to kill other men....

Shopping List Mind

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No-one ever sits beside him. As if he might urinate, or spit. Or, worse, engage in conversation about God.

The Miracle of My Father's Hat

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During the liberation, a Jew in the Russian army, asked him who had been the cruelest. My father gave them the name of the farmer who had murdered his father, and was later told the farmer's son was sent to the front and killed.

Wish I Had

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A pet scorpion. A pet scorpion named Chris.(1)

1234

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My letters are getting lost in the soup

Love Song Number 277

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Tell me how magnificent my mind is