Authors

Poetry

It was only a matter of time before the damp of loss grew within us like moss.

Story of the Week

I never actually existed. I didn’t know it at the time, but it’s clear as day.

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Story of the Week

Their marriage had dwindled to a separation and a running joke.

Story of the Week

I wish I could tell him he’s not going to hell. It would be so freeing for him.

iPoems

My father was neither kind nor strong in his bruising.

Poem of the Week

I have a maple in the yard and from time to time all is distant.

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Fiction

I’m alive, Sarah thinks, the slam of his look going all the way in.

Story of the Week

I wanted to tear away at the fabric of my pants, dig open my skin.

Story of the Week

All of those feelings—you do not have them, they have you.

Poem of the Week

You live in this country, you put up bars, you train your dogs to snarl.

Poetry

No one tells you what it sounds like out in the streets when bullets clang.

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Fiction

Ron Carlson

Story of the Week

The fish’s eye is mangled, tugged inward; blood leaks from its gills.

Poetry

We roasted mastodons. Designed skewers, ovens, steampits.

Poetry

There’s no need to check for a pulse, hold a hand mirror for breath.

Poem of the Week

Men can’t sense like that. Or won’t. Even a father don’t dare get that close.

Poetry

The irreversible ink stain breaking the face of whatever we skate on.

Photography & Art

We imagined the train routes through the heart of the country.

Spring Contest Winners

I returned to research a history we’d only known through stories.

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Story of the Week

He’ll probably try to get her in the sack, just to stay in practice.

Poetry Contest Winners

Your jumps are numbered. It is better to be a bird without altitude.

Poetry

My mother is queen of buttons. She shows off the prized ones.

Narrative Outloud

Better to be a bird
without altitude.
Or to get out of the game early.

Narrative Outloud

I was once a rider of mastodons, a waitress showing skin.

iPoems

I want to be rapt around your linger, not Thumbelina under your dumb.

Story of the Week

I hate it here, but I’ll make the best of it, because that’s what mothers do.

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Poem of the Week

In that great darkness could I explain anything, anything at all.

Poem of the Week

The ego with which we began filters away as love accumulates below.

Poem of the Week

Welcome, little citizen. Lend me your presence, and I’ll lend you mine.

Poem of the Week

Suddenly two would dart and clasp one another belly to belly.

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Poetry

All her sisters have gone to bed, dreaming dreams not like the wakeful.

Nonfiction

Mentors can suggest to you what more you are capable of.

Nonfiction

Do we hunger after conflict as much as we hunger after justice?

Story of the Week

At nineteen I lived for three months as an earnest cocaine addict.

Story of the Week

In that instant, Niel lost one of the most beautiful things in his life.

Story of the Week

It takes a strong woman to make any sort of success in the West.

Story of the Week

I must never go to the garden without a heavy stick or a corn-knife.

Photography & Art

Merwin discovered and restored eighteen acres of abandoned land.

Poem of the Week

As a shadow I arouse you will you believe the truth of my mouth.

Poetry

I want to sleep in a bed next to a man who won’t dream of me all night.

Story of the Week

Her lips had the scent of the first kiss, and a thirst for justice.

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Poem of the Week

They dust off facts like diamonds that excel in perfection under a monocle.

Poetry

Whitman may just mean: it is pretty cold, but there’s always colder.

Poetry

Below, the kiss silently maneuvers our bodies closer to the rose bed.

Poetry

The itch of hay dust was the unscratchable itch of desire.

Nonfiction

I came to computers while trying to run away from literature.

Narrative 10

A friend of my father’s once told me, “You’ll never be a writer.”

Poem of the Week

You are the only one who knows not to pour water on the flame.

Features

In the best fiction, there exists a palpable sense of discovery.

Poem of the Week

Barbie Chang asks why the evil one always has black hair.

Poetry

Some days Barbie Chang wants to hang up her Asian boots.

Poem of the Week

I’ll leave a trail of crumbs as I descend into god knows where.

Poem of the Week

Sometimes you weren’t a good daughter, the mother says.

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Story of the Week

She was the idiot who fell in love with some high-class gigolo.

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Winter Contest Winners

To be married is to learn to love, captive in your own new country.

Nonfiction

Identify where you came from, where you are, and where you wish to go.

Photography & Art

“If the world is becoming a void, the artist must fill it with his soul.”

N30B Winners

What is greater: the distance between these bodies, or their need?

Poetry Contest Winners

I watched to see how the others lived, not knowing I was the Other.

Classics

He always talked of making money with the air of a connoisseur.

Fiction

Hearing the baby’s cry, Varka finds the enemy who is crushing her heart.

Classics

Gurov reflected, “it wouldn’t be a bad idea to make her acquaintance.”

Poem of the Week

You have to be three times better than the white kids, at everything.

Story of the Week

Did you hear about the candidate who grabbed Hugh’s dick?

Poetry

I love it—watching gray light bleed out over the makeshift bed on the floor.

Poem of the Week

It is the night of whores and monsters, but without the killings.

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Story of the Week

His chest was sweaty and his T-shirt stuck to it, bleeding black.

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Story of the Week

There would be no one to live for; she would live for herself.

Fiction

For the first time in her life she stood naked in the open air.

Poetry

At 35,000 feet, the center of heaven, in the deep Milky Way, we meet.

Story of the Week

I was free. The first step had been taken, and it was irrevocable.

Poem of the Week

The hawk moves out of the way to let a little hot package of breath rise up.

Poetry

I love scientists. They’re trying their hardest. And they just want love.

N30B Winners

Something basks and gathers in the dark parts of an open ear.

iPoems

Salt lick inquest skill-step stalks. All flit, vanish: footfall’s fault.

Poetry

I slept but never dreamed there. Nor did I feel the need to court a god.

Poem of the Week

The flail is raised high, back bent in echo of the boys’ backs.

Poem of the Week

She is a stalk, exhausted. She will surround these bones with flesh.

Poem of the Week

And jesse, the smart bombs do not recognize the babies.

Poem of the Week

won’t you celebrate with me that every day has tried to kill me

N30B Winners

When he kisses me, my heart flutters in my chest like swarming bees.

Poetry

She wears her nakedness like it has been woven from air.

Poem of the Week

She takes her hand to my scalp: eyes close as if tasting lemon cake.

N30B Winners

Elsewhere, perhaps here too, regimes stagger, a congress ends.

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Nonfiction

The sex in these fantasies was always a product of love.

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Poem of the Week

My husband shovels snow from flower beds back onto the drive.

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Story of the Week

We were young and lived wild lives in the delightful city of our sojourn.

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Fiction

He will, no doubt, be out of this house soon, headed over to Montgomery.

Poetry

Forgive me, please, for continuing to believe that roses are beautiful.

Story of the Week

Why does she do it? She knows cutting yourself is a joke. Goth, idiotic.

First & Second Looks
First & Second Looks
Story of the Week

She favoured me with an even more viciously scornful “Don’t care!”

Story of the Week

“O youth! The strength of it, the faith of it, the imagination of it!”

Classics

Her knees seemed about to give way, and he quickly grabbed her elbow.

Interviews

I used bravado to protect myself when we lived in poverty.

Nonfiction

He begins to realize that the impossible event may well be about to occur.

Nonfiction

There was an intimacy to the sound that thrilled me.

Poem of the Week

Once upon a time, a couple wandered in a glass forest, hand in hand.

iPoems

To keep the baby safe, we sealed the house as if against bad weather.

iPoems

We’re phosphorus, we’re this glowing rock under UV light in the mineral shed.

Poem of the Week

Centrifugal force circled the beasts until they swirled airborne.

Fiction

He picked up a fairy disguised as a go-go dancer and brought her home.

Fiction

He felt desperate for the rains, mosquitoes be damned.

Fiction

It was half the Spanish he knew—stop, I have a shotgun.

Narrative 10

I’ve found that love has provided my life’s happiest moments.

Story of the Week

Throwing the El Camino into drive, he roared down the mountain road.

Story of the Week

Ah, yes, Rita reminded herself: I won. Her Mistress of Mayhem award.

Fiction

The sense of power that flights of temper evoke will betray you.

Spring Contest Winners

She must know she was a mistake, what they call now a surprise.

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Story of the Week

Live Dangerously! If you get hurt, the suffering will bring a new being.

Story of the Week

All that existed was Louisa’s beauty—or Khin’s refashioning of it.

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Narrative Taste

I read cookbooks the way I do poetry, with a willingness to be transported.

Narrative Taste

Chocolate promises a happy ending. I believed in that promise.

Narrative Taste

This would not be a wooing meal. I was cooking my man into submission.

Nonfiction

I grip the handlebar and pin my eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable crash.

Fiction

For a moment I had the delicious feeling of fitting in without even trying.

Features

Our culture cherishes a fantasy of a certain writerly existence.

Profiles

We have mysterious inclinations. No one can explain it to us.

Nonfiction

I would chase it to the shores of the lake where the killer waited.

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Story of the Week

You slouched on the couch, naked, in front of the air conditioner.

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Fiction

No matter how hard I played, it was like I was performing inside a vacuum.

iStories

Rules are rules. No one comes this close, this fast. Protocol reigns.

Fiction

He folds on himself like a sheet kicked off the foot of a bed.

Fiction

The future was spread out for us to go in any direction we wanted.

iStories

Later in the pale of dawn your hair brushed across my forearm.

Fiction

In school, he was called gook, chink, and one boy called him ching-chong.

Fiction

Since the accident she lost her hold on the world and never got it back.

Fiction

It’s a mistake to be here, he thinks, but he doesn’t turn around.

Fiction

The alert says Warning: Wild Exotic Animals Loose.

Nonfiction

My wife had time to form a thought: I have killed my daughter.

Narrative 10

I’m a big fan of then. A novel needs a lot of thens.

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Fiction

He held a screwdriver to the fleshy underside of Peggy’s neck.

Story of the Week

I’ve got other plans. And they don’t center on ringnecks.

Poem of the Week

Everything comes down to the lightning. Nothing is ever by chance.

Poetry

The mechanism and its crank pull us forever closer, you and I.

Nonfiction

Logic is such an elegant weapon; and religion, such an easy target.

Nonfiction

I want to dispute that depression is by definition pathological.

Nonfiction

In the street waiting for a cab, Ann’s boyfriend entrusted me with the story.

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Story of the Week

The baby in her belly is not a sibling, will never be their playmate.

Classics

you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens her first rose

Fiction

When we’re all together like this it feels like hope is a possibility.