Most recent stories

Wedding

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The service was a disaster. The Protestants bobbed up and down. They didn't know when to stand, when to sit. I

A Certain Boy

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Every single girl, from junior to senior (and a few counselors too, I suspected), wanted to make out with Marty Miller. Did he know how drunk with attraction I was?

Robots in the Workplace

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A Boston company has created a humanoid robot named “Baxter” that performs manufacturing tasks and gets a confused look on its face when it needs something.

The Day Felt

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Hoverboard plate glass of being upon within, splay palsy mothership. Sparks drift from beneath crouched workman's butt in front of a building that was ours last week. Tents with eclectic offerings pitched along thoroughfares winding through neighborhoods under dim…

Reconstruction

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My favorite lie is that he'd escaped the South Tower before it collapsed. Smoke inhalation erased his way home. Mine's better than mother's version: a stranger hurled herself onto him. The truth is when they stopped search and rescue, mother told father, Go. Even dead, his…

House of Dreams

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The cat wound itself around Megan’s neck, its purring curling through Megan’s consciousness. She was the cat and then herself, both things at once.

Catalog of Backgrounds

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nowhere after nowhere

The Yardsale is Over and the Rain is Falling and It Is Getting Dark

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I stared deep into the sepias... And you touched my soul anew.

Tattooed Hands

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A 1960’s of walking sugar beet fields to remove the rogue bolters by hand and on other days painting the ironwork of cattle sheds with red oxide. Then a 1970’s when the self-inking explosion of tattoos on his hands and then his body began.

Lines Written in a Honda Civic

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Raymond Carver used to write poetry in his car. / Tonight, I tried it too. / I have a car like Raymond Carver / but cannot write poetry like Raymond Carver. / The car isn’t enough.

Haiku For My Old Neighbour

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Old man lives next door

To My First Crush

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But I came back around, after Robert Kennedy got shot, with one hand up your skirt and the other on the gear shift...

COSMOGONY

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I am sitting on our porch in the middle of the night. I can't sleep. The stars look like runway lights. Out of boredom, I reach out my hand to connect the distant dots. The tip of my finger hits…

The Day the Internet Disappeared

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Myrna woke up with a start and sensed a strange silence in the air. She quickly flipped on an electric switch and when the lights came on she breathed a sigh of relief. Dawn was just breaking so she went back to bed and pulled the comforter over her head.

The Vitality of Stones

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we can’t hear the hum/ and the heat is imperceptible.

My VaJayJay, The Homing Pigeon

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"The problem is, sometimes my pigeon wants to fly somewhere new- to the beach or south for winter. Other times, my pigeon wants to steal someone else’s lunch or picnic with a stranger’s leftovers. Often, my pigeon wants a good show and some freedom, to be

Drunk Sonnet (for Meg Tuite)

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perjured like a fickle impulse

Desire

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Dark morning sleet whitecrusts the world once more, shrouds remains of January thaw:

Mississippi Jesus

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"How the fucks he drivin' like that?"

Lose the Baggage

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I could be dead wrong.

Salt and Light

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As clever as clean bed sheets

blanck (1?)

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① / empty space / not black / not white / not noise / blanck

Falling

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Sometimes when I fall I see a ...

Abundance

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A young woman in shorts removes her sunglasses, putting them on top of her head in order to study a little girl sitting on her father’s lap on the bus. “I want to get me one of those,” she’s says, smiling. Dark eyes, her dark hair wet and hangin

Pain as Mnemonic Device

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If something hurts enough/ you never forget it. Like the// toothache when you first learned

The Greatest Narcissist on Earth

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I forgot how masterful you are, way better than a pickpocket. After our meeting, I drove home with one hand. It felt funny but I figured I'd absentmindedly put the other in my purse or tossed it into the backseat with my jacket. In my…

Paradise

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From the rumple of pre-dawn Queens, sure South on 95, to almost Savannah by dark; still cold, but we’re full of what’s coming:

Dr. Wong

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Hippy health food. It all began with Hannah’s homemade granola.

Lamenting Lexiconical Loss

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Neglected long enough, uncalled for/ by the shrinking language of the day,// my words abandon me.

66 W

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He said he'd meet me at the Lyric before curtains. For drinks. Only he didn't. Which was OK. The seat was softer, roomier without him. Buzzer rang, doors closed. His loss. Rusalka was clearer. More resonant. Vibrant. Better. …