Most recent stories

A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte

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A woman is fishing in the Seine at the far left of the painting, while time is suspended and light remains. One man plays a trumpet. A half dozen people sit or walk under parasols. Couples stroll and children run or sit or stand beside their par

Damn Headache

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Less than 5 seconds...

i can't have

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Hey there little hippie girl, smilin’ to the ears and dripping with scarves, I cherish our friendship. However, every time you take off your shoes to dance at a rock show, hair swingin’ like silk vines in the paradise that is your shaking ass...

A Sunday Afternoon in Paris

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He would lean on his window sill in the evening and watch the whores. They wore gaudy clothes and too much makeup.

Helen O., Grand Central, 1959

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No snippet to see, here. The piece is so short a snippet would be the whole thing.

The Solace of Olives

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Alone in Eugene, / I sought out / the solace of olives

Learning to Live With Radical Presbyterians

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Proponents of this pragmatic line of thinking say a tolerant approach to Islam will succeed where force has failed to persuade terrorists to abandon the religious fanaticism. It's certainly worth a try--it worked with Presbyterians.

Sea of indifference

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Sea of indifference Coming and going Never committing Like a fickle lover that erodes a hopeful heart

revelations, minus the dying part

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and even if you feel like you're all grown up, it's still okay...

Yr Wire

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Hours. Hours, bygone. He said, “Come to me all liquored up and you know what’s gonna happen.” Sure. It was every bit true, what he said, six months bygone, chewing off cuticle scabs somewhere out west.

The Perfect Recipe

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You treat them like I’m hungry. Fix it.

Josephine Skinny Jeans: Chapter 4

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They gave Lee a bunch of morphine in the ambulance and he came to vaguely, murmuring shit about God and mermaids.

Good Home Wanted

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In his fridge he had one piece of meat. He hadn’t been expecting me. I cooked it for him and watched him eat.

It's Like

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It’s like drawing with Cesium

Fable Of The Alicanto

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There is nothing so obscure it is not enhanced by talking, nothing so dull it cannot be coaxed into brilliance, nothing so deep it cannot be dug from an abyss and brought to the surface in paroxysms of red.

My Mother Was An Upright Piano

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My mother was an upright piano, spine erect, lid tightly closed, unplayable except by the maestro. My father was not the maestro.

Bitter About Pay, Poet Laureate Strikes Catty Tone

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Duffy struck an adversarial tone from the outset, offering up a first poem about improper expenses submitted by members of Parliament that ruffled feathers across party lines.

Five Ways to Say “F*ck Off!” In Our Post-Modern Era

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“Honey, honey.” He tried to take her hand but she pulled away. “This is about the cup. Don't make it about us.”

The Hunter

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When the boy held the rifle’s sights on a living creature, his breath stilled and his heartbeat swimming in his ears, his father seemed close.

Girls with Guns

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"My dear man. We are not friends we are symbiotic."

Florida

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In her paper, Emmeline compares Mary Todd Lincoln's crazy, which involved spending lots of money and going to séances, with her Aunt Janine's, which involves wearing cowgirl outfits and running with strange men.

Nativity in Tahiti: Paul Gauguin

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The young girl has given up, and lies sprawled out upon the yellow cover on the bed, with her blue sarong wrapped loosely around her body. One arm lay back up above her head, where it was thrown during the exertion of birth. Her yellow halo surr

Battle of the Bulging British Bridesmaids

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A survey by "You & Your Wedding" magazine has determined that one in five British brides now requires her bridesmaids to sign contracts regulating their behavior and appearance.

Right in the Back

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I loved baseball and still do, but if you saw me at eleven years old you would not mistake me for that kid over there, the one with even an ounce of talent. Mine you’d measure in atoms.

A Night of Not Knowing

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I lie here sleepless and wait for the moment when I will touch...

Ossian City

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I hear the shriek of the Laughing Lady

Cinderella's Lament

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My name is Wanda McClure and I lived in the foothills of Eastern Kentucky. A small town miles off the interchange, and mostly in the middle of nowhere. I lived in a trailer. I was 52 years old.

Changing a Flat

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Dark, green grass covered the pasture like millions of tiny fingers swaying in the heat.

Avatar Of Chaos

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He has one good eye and is missing the other. The socket of his missing eye squints with a disturbing and unfathomable insight.

How To Laugh and Be Happy When Not Drinking

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That is the question, not to be or not to be Life, death, whether to be, all that is superfluous in the face of laughter and how to achieve it under extraordinary circumstances like not drinking anymore I’m afraid not all the alcoh