Most read stories

Worst Case Scenario

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The voices he hears are God and the Devil and he knows the difference. Therefore, he is not mentally ill.

Cornfield

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This is not a story you expect to end at Cape Horn.

Heart 1.1

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you wear the warmth of death/ and your heat eternity/ blasts on mourn from your heart

John Lennon Slept Here (Or Was It Ringo?)

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Why is the ghost of John Lennon haunting a house in rural Oregon?

wanna be a cowboy?

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no one likes a bitchy cowboyhike up yer britchespull yer brim down'nshut up and ridestop making petsout of peevesand idolsout of gossipinsteadmake a hobbyout of yer horseand fer godsakesseason that saddle

From The Doctor, With Love

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I love how you touch me, your hands warm on my shape...

Punk

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My mother used to say she'll be just like you and you‘ll deserve it. I was a Punk Rocker. A rebel. Emily worries about things like grades and sports. She's on the soccer team. I got stoned under the bleachers. Emily, is a good kid. …

To Be Undone

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. . . hands before your face, heart without blood . . .

The Massacre

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 …

How to Make an Atom Bomb While Your Wife's Away

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I rummage around to see which of our many countertop appliances might do the trick. Yogurt maker? No, I need something with more muscle. The Cuisinart--just the thing! I pick through the detachable blades—where’s the isotope shredder?

20 Things I Learned about Norman Rockwell from "American Mirror, The Life and Art of Norman Rockwell"

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His middle name was Perceval. He judged the first Miss America contest in 1922. He saw himself primarily as a storyteller in the Dickensian mode.He claimed to be an illustrator rather than an artist. He disliked driving but loved to walk, and preferred…

The Stick

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When you finally got blood from the hard stick You spotted the backflash of red And said Thank God. The woman’s legs and arms Were everywhere, and you were in the middle Holding her down with one hand while wielding A butterfly in the other. You stuc

A Little Fishing

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Len and I sit on Harpo's porch, drink beer and gab. It's hot, even for July. Len and I joke and laugh, and Harpo stares off into the middle distance.

The Captive

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....sees the beginning of a new day through the closed shutters, hears the guard washing up at the sink, feels the beginning of a cry in his throat.

The Damp Place

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As long as he could still take the stairs, he would go down there to be with the memories that each piece held. He knew that their time was about up, because his was too. His wife had already gone, and even before that she had long stopped using the washe

The Phantom

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Approaching the kitchen from the foyer the reverb lessened until heel and floor where flint on flint. No spark was made.

December 15, 2012

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Already, I can see that, whenever Harold moves, some of his soul escapes, like an accidental exhalation, like breath on powder.

Swimming Lessons

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The trainers looked at her and smiled and they were still one creature with four legs and two heads. The old man’s left eye moved in sync with the younger one’s right eye.

Apollinaire's Trepanned Skull

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It was only when blood began to drip onto the page that he realized he'd been hit.

Breadfruit

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... we both know how we go to fresh air like fish, gasping.

The Clique

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On the other side of the world the Moon spun on its way.

Boy Toy

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Sometimes you can't sleep.

Living in the Lapin of Luxury

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“There’s cheap land at Cudlee Creek perfect for breeding long-haired rabbits,” he added. “They can’t jump high so fencing costs are low.”

Little Pi.ec.es

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I scare my daughter when she sleeps because she thinks I'm going to kill her.

Arturo + Lourdes, 2005 and 4ever

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Here’s the story as compiled from the scantest of clues: The writing on the back of a stall door in the restroom of a twenty-four hour restaurant under the Gowanus Expressway.

Sheer

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That's when we struggle, got it? Right there on the floor. It's not the brawl of the century, and I'm not the pilot who delivers the Enola Gay.

Improbable Bodies

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The book has known many women’s hands, something erotic and frequently checked out from our local library. Its cover depicts a man and a woman, both with improbable if not impossible bodies. I believe the term is bodice-ripper.

Bus

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You can’t take a chandelier on an emergency dash across a nuclear desert.

The Words Fall Into Ash

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The two were huddled in a corner of an alley, joined by some others that I’m sure wandered into the darkness when they realized they were far from alone. That alley was the one off Market Street. I used to steal candy from the corner shop when I was nin

I Am Wearing Stolen Socks

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I am wearing stolen socks. Not because I haven't any of my own, and not because they are an exact fit. Only because they soothe my emptiness inside.