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Moving Day

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I didn’t hear that Duncan Pratt had been killed until I’d been out of the Army for two weeks and had gone four days without a single thought about that final year in Vietnam.

Adagio

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... must we turn again (and again)/ to an orchestra stripped of wind and drum?

Making it Right

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A girl stretched out on the long backseat of the Greyhound bus, her head resting on a bright pink overnight case decorated with colorful stickers announcing the places she intends to go: Paris Cairo Hong Kong Rome.

The Hollow

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They live on the edge of town. There is a cornfield behind their house. When the wind blows, it is like the hands of many children clapping.

Some Last Things

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if you whisper your truths, they'll disappear

Temporary Passport

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It is late in the twentieth century and I'm on my hands and knees for you.

My Mother Loved To Dance

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I can picture her

Naked Ladies

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She said she wanted to find a man who could appreciate a woman who gave great head.

Oops

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Ok so oops. I messed that up. I made it sexual when it was sweet. Oops. I swear it was the beer. Ok I lie. I always lie.

Temporary

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That's what these companies do: swallow you whole and spit you out.

Repair Man

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The repair man is conscientious in this as he is with all things, light with his fingers and his tongue. His hair falls over his eyes as he works her.

Meryl Streep Laughed at That

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The boys' mother lived in a house two lawns from his, but she wouldn't bring him ice packs; she had her period, she said.

A Life Twice Told

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Walking to work, Lawrence Settler was struck by a bus as he crossed a one-way street.

Snow

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She made them all watch ``Oceans Eleven'', even the baby...

A Letter

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I write to you from waiting for the world to end. I will leave this in a desk drawer.

The Wolf Who Cried Boy

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The story begins ... There were no pigs' huts of straw or stick or stone.

Shooter

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After the shooting, they sent the boy away. He returned taller and heavier, a sulkier version of his earlier self.

Pig Girl

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"In the camps we ate whatever garbage they gave us." This according to my mother. "We had no choice." But I had eaten pig with gusto at an anti-Semite's table. Somehow this had to be undone. Burial in soil was all I could imagine.

My Night with Sarah Palin

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I admired her stamina. Her ability to Charlie Sheen it night after night.

Celluloid

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Mina stumbled and fell headlong into her apartment, smacking her knees and palms on the hardwood floor.

3 Short Shorts

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When he tried to kiss her, she ran to the bathroom to throw up.

Due to the volume of submissions

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Somebody pushed the automatic fuck-you button today, not the due-to-the-volume-of-submissions-we-receive button, nor the it-does-not-fit-our-editorial-needs button;

Woman, Running Late, in a Dress

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Gasps and shouts, a hand on my arm, sequined gowns and expensive colognes parting before me. And then, there, Raymond’s crumpled form on the hardwood floor of the foyer, like a sleeve torn from a jacket, the stitches frayed and useless.

What's Eating William Gass?

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Sometime in the 60s a philosophy teacher named William H. Gass was writing a novel. He had it about where he wanted it when someone stole the manuscript from his car.

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.

Fiancée

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We walk to the Narrows from the boutique, fortified by talk of men and fashion. The Narrows is a blues bar known for outbreaks of small violence. I am wearing the winter white swing coat I bought for the wedding and the gold and turquoise beads.

Gasp and Dash

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I took a deep breath and turned the key. I pushed the door open just far enough to see. I backed out, closed the door and turned the key again. I walked to my car, knelt down and placed in front of the right front tire the little box with the holes in it that held the…

The moon rose up on its tinfoil bed

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and floated along withus like it was attachedwith a string. I thought thatmeant we had a boat incase of emergenciesbut she said it was sadto see it followingin our wake like a cork.I still think it looked everybit the stylish silver-capped swimmer doingthe…

The Serious Writer Occupies Wall Street

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When thinking of the commotion surrounding Wall Street, the serious writer gets very upset.

Empty

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We're so unkempt and sorry.