Stories

Poetry

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

Poem of the Week

The dead cowards my parents on a tear through the goddamn fields.

Poem of the Week

By the time I looked over my shoulder, the sun had already fallen.

Narrative Nights

A final toast: “to stories: the ones that made us, and the ones between us.”

Poem of the Week

The woman one row in front of me was an epic series of curves.

Nonfiction

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

Story of the Week

All diseases were conquered. Death was an adventure for volunteers.

Readers' Narratives

I never wavered, even when it was clear he was the dangerous one.

Story of the Week

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

Nonfiction

Progressive stages of revision eliminate incidence in favor of essence.

iPoems

If others call you a maniac or a fool, just let them wag their tongues.

Story of the Week

A widow is sort of a holy figure, while a divorcée is a tawdry one.

iPoems

The horse had been beaten and flies crawled on the beat marks.

Poetry

My son trims a curtain of lashes, immures them into a stray year.

Story of the Week

“I think he does not care for art; I fancy he has not even read Pushkin.”

Story of the Week

A gravely ill man was waiting for me in a village ten miles distant.

Poem of the Week

The almanac tells them when the moon passes into ghost weather.

Poem of the Week

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

Story of the Week

The dog glares back at Roger, his eyes on fire, but he doesn’t let her go.

Story of the Week

Human language, Winston thought, was not adequate for spiritual union.

Story of the Week

There was no sense in brushing off or any other civilized thing.

Graphic Stories

I'll rid the world of bad things. But first, I need to get more coffee.

Story of the Week

The peanut seller tore sheets out of paperback books to make the cones.

Story of the Week

The prisoners were ten ragged scarecrows wearing prison suits.

Poem of the Week

I shoved them one by one, easy as pie yet with care, just shy of mercy.

Poem of the Week

History howls for direction so I remind him how the hero was lost.