Authors

Poetry

Ideology, all of us inanimate in the face of the onslaught.

Poem of the Week

A rifle, empty shells, the remains of a man, a bullet through his chest.

Poem of the Week

I have heard stories of the river, how people were willing to die to cross it.

Narrative By Hand

Some people are so beautiful they belong everywhere that they go.

Story of the Week

Some people are so beautiful, they belong everywhere they go.

Poem of the Week

It is cruel, this business of exile and divorce. I will not deny it.

Narrative By Hand

My parents had seven children; some of us have bank accounts.

Fiction

There was nothing sadder than the look of defeat in a man’s eyes.

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Story of the Week

Lorna was like a sculpture carved by some Greek out of marble.

First & Second Looks
Narrative Outloud

She did something few girls had ever done with him. She laughed.

Masterpieces

He wrote and rewrote endlessly, and rose at night to reread pages.

Narrative Outloud

He thought of the love that had filled the great central chamber of his life.

Narrative By Hand

You could not look at Leila for long, and yet you longed to look at her.

Narrative Outloud

You could not look at Leila for long, and yet you longed to look at her.

Narrative Outloud

You could not look at Leila for long, and yet you longed to look at her.

Story of the Week

She is complaisant with all her clothes off. She moves to his touch.

Nonfiction

Later, in a sudden about-face, she gives herself to him entirely.

Nonfiction

The wine was administered to Theo’s lips, and then the rest of us.

Interviews

What counts in the long run is pleasure in conversation with each other.

Fiction

The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen has become the saddest.

iPoems

Bone unspools its musculature to the crush of atmosphere.

Poem of the Week

Limbo: Latin, limbus, meaning a hem between sclera and cornea.

Story of the Week

“Come here, my good child; sing me Pergolese’s Salve Regina.

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Nonfiction

I asked for water, and he shot me a look of henpecked resentment.

Graphic Stories

Hannah Sarvasy

Graphic Stories

They tried to kill us, my sisters, mother, and me; I still have the scars.

Story of the Week

The boys searched for their father, lost somewhere in the Olympic Range.

Nonfiction

He’d be buried in the town he so desperately wanted to leave.

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Fiction

Put yourself in bad positions, they’ll remind us. Address your weaknesses.

Story of the Week

I grew accustomed to seeing the sun rise and set from the school.

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Readers' Narratives

The psychology in climbing is to look ahead, but that trick was little help.

Poetry

Beyond the glib off-white palisades lies the answer to an urban dream.

Narrative 10

I loved David, but I loved another character more: James Steerforth.

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Story of the Week

She offered her face up for what should be a brotherly kiss.

Nonfiction

Together we invented intimacy, both its benefits and its horrors.

Poetry

Of all she taught me I like best the lore of spray-on cologne.

Poem of the Week

Absence rarely makes the heart grow fonder, or so my mother said.

Story of the Week

The store was one of his last-ditch efforts to make a pile of money.

Story of the Week

With cane in hand I felt a twinge of superiority to the crutch people.

Poetry

The angel lay in his body effervescent as a flake of alabaster.

Story of the Week

Her skin was bruised under her eyes, purple like the swollen toe.

Story of the Week

The tomatoes weren’t there. She looked again at the ground.

Poetry

She only eats condiments, pickles, slices of sharp cheddar.

Story of the Week

Rebecca beheld the sword which was suspended over her people.

Poetry

I want you, you captive, delivered into each other’s territories.

Poetry

I’m afraid to say anything or nothing, I’m white & unalterably broken.

Poem of the Week

A camper fighting off a grizzly until someone can shoot it dead.

Story of the Week

You’ve seen her almost every day, going to and from the gardens.

iStories

“We’re not like other species,” you say, a novelist at night.

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Story of the Week

Zeus’s tongue thrusts straight and deep between my lips.

Poem of the Week

Appearance does not really appear, but it appears to appear.

Features

Rebecca Seiferle

Poem of the Week

Oh love is stupid but it’s true, all day I feel as if I were a dog on a chain.

Story of the Week

What was happening? All she wants is for Teddy to fuck her silly.

Classics

No one’s alone. Men kill for this, or for as much. And what of the dead?

Fiction

Sometimes these fools shoot themselves, playing with their weapons.

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Poem of the Week

our minds are not the same if they were the same you would be here

Narrative 10

I know now not to measure my insides against others’ outsides.

Story of the Week

The girl I was could not have imagined the woman I grew up to become.

Poem of the Week

Coil of metal, coin of wood, two-headed and soft in the middle.

Poem of the Week

I take what I want, and have ever since what I want disappeared.

Poem of the Week

My relationship with god resembled that of a prisoner and firing squad.

Classics

“Some men’re like that. They have to see what they’re missing.”

iPoems

A field. No clouds. Tall grasses bend toward the foreground.

iPoems

A boat-tailed grackle counts the passing cars from the traffic light.

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Interviews

When he died earlier this year an enormous hole was left in my life.

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Photography & Art

The materials were everyday and the possibilities were open-ended.

Photography & Art

Theodora Shure

Story of the Week

Since his mother’s fall, Ali had been stopping by every week to help out.

Story of the Week

They went to pray for the dead. It was important to shed some tears.

Story of the Week

I promised to return, but secretly I dreamed of staying in America.

Poetry

Some people see the man but not the light, the field but not the varnish.

iStories

I’m not here to remember a friend, but to say good-bye to a part of myself.

iStories

Thank goodness Dad died—sounds awful but he left his condo paid for.

Story of the Week

It is our first time, both of ours. This sentence ends with hate myself.

Story of the Week

The thumbnail spoke directly to the most excitable parts of himself.

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Poem of the Week

How smooth their bones, like alabaster shaved from moonlight.

Story of the Week

The Nazis are training some of their storm-troopers here in America.

Story of the Week

When an old man marries a young piece of flesh, she is the ruler.

Story of the Week

I was all alone in a little room, nothing but that big gun in my face.

Story of the Week

The prisoners were ten ragged scarecrows wearing prison suits.

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Story of the Week

I am drawn to these victims because I was there the night they were killed.

Story of the Week

The neighbors were Ukrainians with bad tempers and owned guns.

Story of the Week

Ambition and coincidence had led me to the Royal Theatre.

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Poem of the Week

It was the truth of it all—hunger’s chill, the scream beneath the surface.

Poem of the Week

Vita brevis, source of all not enough. Light leaked from stopped time.

Poetry

Kansas is a cold dessert, I say. No, Kansas is a tongue depressor, he says.

Poem of the Week

I’m the astronomer unable to lower his telescope, or look away.

Poem of the Week

It’s hard to save your own life, to take such extreme measures alone.

Poetry

For the president’s arrival they shot two dogs making love on the tarmac.

Poem of the Week

Books are territory of the hands, hands that shook my spine.

Poem of the Week

It stood across a narrow side alley where light-green ivy grew.

Poetry

The night shower is a personal pan-blizzard, a folklore-free zone.

Story of the Week

There was a time when all I wanted was go back. Ask all the questions.

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Nonfiction

When we wake up, the five windows and the French door are full of light.

Narrative 10

There’s something to stepping right out of your dreams and onto the page.

Fiction

We’ve tried, but it seems it is in the stars for us to hate each other.

Fiction

Before he started spraying he would hand her the mask to put on.

Fiction

He says to his boots, “Well, suppose we went for fish.”

Fiction

He tried to regain that moment of grace, but there was no conjuring it.

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Fiction

The damn dog has been brainwashed. He doesn’t know
us anymore.

Poetry

Soon everything here will be sopped up by time. Only art will last.

Poem of the Week

He said, You have no brother. I didn’t know what he meant. I do now.

Story of the Week

He studies their mannerisms, looking for clues to the psycho spirit.

Poem of the Week

Ghost still pace Georgia, hungry for babies, for husbands.

Poetry

there was a boy made of bad teeth & a boy made of stale bread

Poem of the Week

I let him record me doing it all. I wanted to watch me be a monster.

Poem of the Week

Come winter, they go to the funeral early & count the living.

Poetry

I shouldn’t have to say why the confederate flag is a symbol of hate.

Poem of the Week

You need to teach these cows to meditate. To lose their bodies.

Fiction

The laughter rises like the roar of a train as the men leap to their feet.

Story of the Week

The church was clearly the work of a madman driven crazy by the wind.

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Six-Word Stories

Louise Farmer Smith

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Story of the Week

He saw the car bearing down and gave it the finger, a snarl on his face.

Story of the Week

Keaton didn’t control his emotions; he put them to use.

Story of the Week

The day was beyond the reach of words like tragic and hilarious.

Narrative on the Road

We drink to Nixon’s impeachment again, this time with the good stuff.

Story of the Week

It whispered a promise of great wealth, and I was listening.

Narrative on the Road

We skip across the surface like a stone slung by a giant travel agent.

Story of the Week

“We’d be naive,” Crump went on, “not to assume that people are vile.”

Narrative on the Road

Gresham’s law. Stupid talk chases smart talk out of circulation.

Readers' Narratives

The house is full of houseguests and they’re giving Netflix a workout.

Nonfiction

I wanted to be a citizen of the empire called American Express.

Nonfiction

Early on, Castro learned and opposed the unfairness of things.

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Story of the Week

I’m in a fight for my career and the SOB won’t be there for me.

Poem of the Week

Left Behind climbed the Octopus Tree to find the source of fire.

Poem of the Week

This is the woman who had shrunk so small, nobody could find her.

Poem of the Week

We press closer to look at a picture: a handcuffed boy leaning toward us.

N30B Winners

It was a very strange dinner. I didn’t dare ask my parents questions.

Poetry

Let’s span a time with each other. The mutual will give us pleasure.

Poem of the Week

I want to bring the duality of us together, not spar with language.

Poem of the Week

He sits hiked up, naked to the waist, like a stone in the bedclothes.

Poem of the Week

I’m happy in the unmapped landscape inside the bottle.

Photography & Art

The power to alter one’s life comes from a paragraph, a lone remark.

Story of the Week

Everyone roared at her wit. Ravenous children prowled like tigers.

Fiction

The chocolate was old, dusty white, the way chocolate gets after many years.

Story of the Week

I don’t want fiction. What I want is truth. Or someone’s version of it.

Winter Contest Winners

Idzia is a little monster. For a monster, though, she’s awfully cute.

Story of the Week

My sister says, vicious as possible, “Don’t you dare try to protect me.”

Poem of the Week

Michelle dances on his forehead like an imp, like an illness in motion.

Six-Word Stories

The end of a relationship, through four six-word stories.

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Fiction

We were in a play about affection. We were in a play about sex.

Nonfiction

Perhaps more than ever writers may have two kinds of fame.

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Poem of the Week

Ahab went mad when he saw the sea is just the sea and nothing more.

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Classics

I had the tongue of an adder and my heart was black with rage and hate.

Poem of the Week

Florence’s cobbled streets spoke like a broken wheel, a halfhearted
inferno.

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Poem of the Week

A summer without passion, our selves pulled together like the leaves.

Poem of the Week

Christ is not alive but the she-blood is. Slow down and swerve to miss her.

Poem of the Week

I give you a real blue song the mountains hold under their foot.

Poem of the Week

I’m going to cut me some ham and wait for death to lace his boots.

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Story of the Week

He bound me to blind obedience, for which I’d shown a propensity.

Story of the Week

There is hardly a rich man in the world who has not such a friend.

Poem of the Week

I dream a sonnet made of buttons posed stiff against its milky plastic sky.

Poem of the Week

may your harvest fit in a sack may none of your apples be sweet

Poetry

Pummel nests from limbs and drown the furred things in their dens.

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Story of the Week

In the thickening smoke the workers clawed and flailed at one another.

Story of the Week

The proper qualities of each sex are eternally surprising to the other.

Story of the Week

The future of the book began to appear among imaginary woods.

Poetry

I wanted my love to be everywhere, then love began to bite through me.

N30B Winners

I dug a hole in you; I jumped (here is the church, here is the steeple).

Story of the Week

The sounds of Africa exploded around the white men and women.

Nonfiction

Hemorrhages, it was thought, do not appear for no reason.

Narrative Outloud

I was writing copy for cheapo furniture for a crummy ad agency.

Narrative Outloud

A world of adventure awaited, a world of beautiful, available women.

Narrative Outloud

We would just roll down the old biology road like all the other suckers.

Narrative Outloud

He could not stop marveling at the velvet quality of
her skin.

Story of the Week

Life is a dream, he thought. Something she knew and I didn’t.

Fiction

“There’s life after birth! That’s what jails and lethal injections are for!”

Features

The legendary author Robert Stone, in the words of his friends.

Narrative Outloud

The palm’s outline shimmied in the sunlight against the aqua curtain.

Fiction

The place your truest self inhabited was the place you could not bear.

Features

Our camera pans along the porch, and we see each praying woman.

Narrative By Hand

The notebooks reveal insertions, deletions, queries, and corrections.

Features

We went in search of the vividly remembered missing pages.

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Poem of the Week

Poor boy, he only wanted to love some man—who knows who?

Poem of the Week

How can you love them and yet how could you live
without them?

Poem of the Week

All this while, I am eating the apple in this careless moment of life.

Poem of the Week

It was spring: the field, a botanist’s mirage of wild flowers.

Poem of the Week

The moment in your drunk when you become rich! A connoisseur.

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Poetry

From a pyre on the burning ghat a corpse slowly sits up in the flames.

Poem of the Week

…when you walk to the edge of the Mekong and make a wish…

Poem of the Week

Heat heat and the sky a flame of sapphire, even rocks blazing.

Poem of the Week

We spit out the black seeds, bits of night glistening on the grass.

Poem of the Week

Every day I was forced to return to the one place I did not want to be.

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Love Story Contest

Interviewer said he had no intention of stealing anything from Subject.

Story of the Week

Turned out Bauer was one of the ones brought alive by misery.

Story of the Week

I sometimes forget I’m a horse. I’m also a man dressed as a horse.

N30B Winners

You never see Westerners, so you don’t think of them as human beings.

Poetry

My brother could Wichita wheelbarrow like I never could.

Fiction

He is too young even to be drinking let alone educating us.

Fiction

If he’d had that seat belt on, he would have been pinned inside.

Poem of the Week

Make It Big, all return and rhythm, a groove that plays to the center.

Story of the Week

It’s a girls’ college we’re going to, but all the guys know Polly’s name.

Poetry Contest Winners

It commands your presence, mocking your impatience with its steam.

Poetry

If party isn’t what we set out to do then you should go home.

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Story of the Week

Someone was saying his name, and that’s how he knew he was dead.

Story of the Week

When I come to be old, I resolve not to tell the same story over and over.

Poem of the Week

We talked. She was the same inside as I am, from the same kind.

Poem of the Week

An empty day without events. And that is why it grew immense as space.

Narrative Outloud

She does not know within a decade she will unload a slug into her mouth.

Poetry

They rise in waves, while a lone hawk remains unperturbed.

Poem of the Week

Before we too vanish, we hike to where three trails converge.

Poem of the Week

Mistaking water hemlock for parsley, I die hours later in the hospital.

Poem of the Week

I do not expunge the past but ignite the fuse to a whistling pinwheel.

Poetry

Of what use, other than to the butterfly, are a butterfly’s wings?

Poem of the Week

I stay gripped to pine and the sugar of existence runs through you.