Authors

Nonfiction

We take our solace, in a time of malaise and mourning, in the close-at-hand.

Fiction

She knew what boys can do to girls: if the girls are alone, and helpless.

Story of the Week

Why do you keep so much from your husband, don’t you trust him?

Story of the Week

Isn’t Nightshade sad, people said; isn’t he pathetic; isn’t he hideous.

Nonfiction

“Happy? Nabokov died yesterday, we all move up a notch.”

Story of the Week

He’s an excellent student. It’s just that . . . he thinks ideas are real.

Fiction

I saw her bed wasn’t slept in and knew—something had happened.

Fiction

He didn’t mind, he insisted, that he loved her more than she loved him.

Nonfiction

Insomnia! There is a sickly romance to the affliction—initially.

Nonfiction

She could not have known how uncannily she resembled me.

Fiction

This is not deception. This is a subtle way of conditioning.

Story of the Week

“A book is an ax,” Franz Kafka once said, “for the frozen sea within.”

Fiction

Late March 2002. “Mud time”—so called in Mad River Junction, Ohio.

Fiction

If Vann kisses her, a mist will rise in her brain. A promise of oblivion.

First-Person Winners

Mother had always told me that everybody loves a self-absorbed ass.

Fiction

Five dark shapes loped after the car. Dogs—as far as the eye could see.

Fiction

Lindy knew what happens in the dark behind shut doors: girls tell stories.

Classics

A week later, I said to a friend: I don’t think I could ever write about it.

Poetry

Corn repeats itself into a haze of tassels and sheaving leaves.

Poem of the Week

I was once very brave. Once I was very brave. I was very brave once.

Poem of the Week

My shadow is cast by the paleness of a certain star.

Poem of the Week

A cuckoo calls the hours like an old clock, only not the hours we mean.

Poem of the Week

It’s been months since the cat died and still we find her hair.

Poetry

Nothing likes to be abandoned, no one likes to be compared.

Poetry

This morning I watched two elephants dance the boogie-woogie.

Story of the Week

The school’s committed to an all-sterile facility by the year 2025.

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Poetry

One day, we will all turn into choir girls—all soft and hollow inside.

Narrative 10

I love talking to girls. That’s why I’ve written so much about them.

Narrative Outloud

When I went to Scotland for a wedding, I didn't plan on firing a gun.

First & Second Looks

The illusion is so complete that it seems the world has been re-created.

Story of the Week

She’d ransacked his heart the moment she unlocked the door.

Fiction

Some people you come across you come to love. He was one of them.

Story of the Week

Theirs was a free fall that went on and on. If it’s time to fall, let’s fall.

Features

Needless to say, when it was my night to read I was beyond terrified.

Poem of the Week

The gravest season and least understood is more than pale heads

Poem of the Week

In that world I was a fish too eager to enter the nets; here, I’m a river.

Poem of the Week

Now only the single syllable that is the beloved, that is the world.

Poem of the Week

The letters combine into words that resurrect the beloved every time.

Poetry

Nothing holds the universe together; nothing is the secret force.

Poem of the Week

Bodies, moths, destroyers. Fear like finding a bullet in a snowman.

Poem of the Week

I have many dreams, I say. In my dreams I am better than myself.

Poetry

Tell her I put poison in the pot and I intend to watch her drink it.

Poem of the Week

I am subject to you in the way the water is subject to the moon.

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Poem of the Week

But we do despise beauty. We connect it with softness and immortality.

Winter Contest Winners

Unnatural as a ghost; the thought rose unbidden to his mind.

Classics

The true Lesson of the Master is, simply, to husband one’s own stupidity.

Story of the Week

They rose before us under a halo of lights like figures in a shrine.

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Poetry

Sublime or ridiculous, the poet seeks to constrain language.

Poetry

Even the busiest of businessmen are out for the count, paying the price.

Poem of the Week

For years, all we showed her for her pains were two deaf ears.

Poem of the Week

Music that tells of how things stand in the troubled world you now have.

Poetry

On Christmas Day, we lost one of our great advocates for poetry.

Story of the Week

Children are never old enough to understand their parents’ affairs.

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Story of the Week

Gerard sat in the shadow, watching his son steal about like a thief.