Stories
Winter Contest Winners
I can see on him how things are changing for and against us.
Story of the Week
Lorenzo and me, we’d squat our own building. It was the new frontier.
Fiction
My daughter’s favorite game is Holocaust. She’s quite inventive.
Poem of the Week
I want to remember us this way—sun streaming through the window.
Poem of the Week
She can go to Bible study every Sunday and swear she’s still not convinced.
Poetry
It’s so easy these days to receive what you thought you needed.
Poem of the Week
Streetlights throw the blinds against the ceiling. It’s 7:00 p.m.
Poetry
Royal baby George is tucked in the crook of his mother’s elbow.
Nonfiction
Advance planning was never Hank’s strong suit, he had to leave her.
Story of the Week
Paul King was shiftless and drunken; ugly tales were told of him.
Story of the Week
For all the stories they’d concocted, the real one electrified them.
Story of the Week
She did not leave him for the sailor. So why should he be angry?
Fiction
So that’s what I’d look like if every beauty parlor in the world shut down.
Story of the Week
Two weeks after she and Mark were married, Hannah fell in love.
Poetry Contest Winners
Is she dreaming of the rivers soft with codling in her hometown?
Poetry
All over the planet people try to end pain: striptease, bee stings.
Nonfiction
Fiction, no matter how short or long, is the art form of human yearning.
Fiction
The allure of Mardi Gras is to feel this way: unseen and unseeable.
Story of the Week
It was true. We would probably never visit that place again.
Story of the Week
Some inner voice told her that now or never her fate would be decided.
Fiction
I grabbed him by the face and told him life only comes to a person once.
Poem of the Week
A boy watching another boy lucky gets an ache. That is a small motor.
Story of the Week
She favoured me with an even more viciously scornful “Don’t care!”
Nonfiction
We never really had what might be considered a normal conversation.
Poetry
A father peeled the night / from another midnight & begged / me to lie
Story of the Week
For me, Selweh was the real magic. She was nothing like my mother.
Classics
When he had passed from view, I stumbled back from the window.
Story of the Week
She is complaisant with all her clothes off. She moves to his touch.
Story of the Week
Americans have always a kind of tenderness for cheat.
