We believe students and readers everywhere deserve a great and free modern library, inside of which they can get deliriously, entertainingly, profoundly lost. And found.
Stories
Poetry
We ate and then made love, the windows open to deafening twilight.
Poetry
The exurban dream of it all, to enter is to have the ability to exit.
Poem of the Week
Are you there? I couldn’t tell you about the time I saw the deer.
Poetry
No one tells you what it sounds like out in the streets when bullets clang.
Poem of the Week
The purpose of all rules of piety is to extend revelation into ordinary life.
Poem of the Week
I am wet with circuitry. And I doubt I could ever save anyone.
Poem of the Week
On her tongue was a wick and her body was invented a nation of lice.
Poem of the Week
For years, all we showed her for her pains were two deaf ears.
Poem of the Week
Tear-streaked mascara, mascara-stained cheeks: a cataract of woe.
Poem of the Week
Complicity can crease the tongue back on itself like an origami dog.
Poem of the Week
I’m the shrunken dead like them, here, greening the sky’s bluer potion.
Poetry
Now the mulch has come between us seven turns, I’ve grown dramatic.
Poetry
On the anniversary of your death, a memory sharpens, as if illuminated.
Poem of the Week
I was satisfied with haiku until I met you, jar of octopus, cuckoo’s cry.
Features
The smart hide their claws in their paws, then add fur for allure.
Poem of the Week
I am tamping down the earth with the flat side of a blade I am burying you
Poem of the Week
Hearing them coughing in the hall, you rose from your desk.
Poetry Contest Winners
I wanted to forget my parents’ slow dying together in Ohio.
Poem of the Week
Purple planets, dirt stars. Imagine the carom in the hall, how it sounded.
Poem of the Week
The coyotes are making a kill. Their voices rise through the darkness.
Poem of the Week
I’m trying to believe I can sense the river when I can’t.
Hard to call beauty an affliction, but I think it is what makes my blindness hurt.
Poetry
Getting over being drunk makes you wonder why the hell you did that.
Poetry
You see, I plan on remaining here as the most foolish god in the world.
Poem of the Week
All that I’ve had, I’ve left propped up in a glass vase: cut stems at rest.
Poem of the Week
No salt tears,
and a continent between her ashes and Father’s.
Poetry
He drowned under a different name, a fake name chiseled in German.
Poem of the Week
If all along we all had known the leaves we leafed would leave us
Poetry
Ideology, all of us inanimate in the face of the onslaught.