Authors

Poem of the Week

Today is my favorite kind of day. Night opens, light concedes.

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Poetry

What do you offer someone who has lost half of her beginning?

Poem of the Week

I read that poem twice, didn’t I? I must have wanted to hear it again.

Fiction

If dating taught Cory anything, it was that he needed an ex-wife.

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Poem of the Week

Why is the sun such a bad companion to the desert traveler?

Poem of the Week

After having been riddled with stars: I lost the light that was lost.

Poetry

I couldn’t love the tree in every soul shouldering its own tiny autumn.

Story of the Week

It changes nothing. It’s nasty shit, and you’ve gotta get clean.

Features

Tina Nettesheim

Story of the Week

They couldn’t go to the Manson family caves because of nuclear radiation.

Fiction

A small circle of friends and family babysat so she could go to school.

Fiction

“I might surprise you,” Mr. Maxi said. Polly hoped he’d go all out.

Poem of the Week

The appendix on political correctness explains why none of that is funny.

Poetry

She was gone then, inaudible, steeple-reticent, demure as sky.

Love Story Contest

A high roller gave her money to stay in his room for the weekend.

Fiction

She had yellow cat eyes that she insisted were also blond.

Narrative 10

I usually get my best writing done at night or at the close of day.

iStories

Howard found himself dancing the merengue with a buxom Puerto Rican.

Story of the Week

He was alongside without preamble. Elephants are not stealthy by nature.

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Poetry

I'll pick a black card of luck for you: star, pinkmoon, mirror, ostrich eye.

Fiction

The sight of her belly ring and the smooth, tight canopy of flesh.

Fiction

The pillow into which her face was turned muffled her voice.

Winter Contest Winners

Phuong feared that she was nothing but a regret born into flesh.

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Poetry

A child no bigger than small change calls from her window j’ai faim.

Poem of the Week

I roam the dirt with the law in my teeth, a widower in search of a widow.

Poem of the Week

I ask if you are all right until you can be nothing but not all right, not okay.

Poem of the Week

Grandfather advised me: learn a trade. I learned to sit at a desk.

Poetry

Even this says nothing of your desire—to be put to use.

Poem of the Week

We work to house the water yet know we cannot keep anything.

Poetry

I can already feel the stone’s resistance as I work the first pass.

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Poem of the Week

Window widows we were once, like lonely oil spilled on sullied beaches.

Poetry

Barbra Nightingale

Poetry

Barbra Nightingale

Poem of the Week

My soul’s parts know little and don’t care whether I live or die.

Fiction

The dead children were wheeled away, covered with white sheets.

Story of the Week

The guards ripped off Mara’s clothes, pinning her head against the wall.

Nonfiction

A friend said she hated the State of Israel because it killed her cat.

Story of the Week

Give him a bottle of red wine. You’ll be his best friend right away.

Story of the Week

The tree was shaggy and it bore scars of shrapnel from the war.

Nonfiction

If you let me live, I will buy you beer whenever I see you in town.

Story of the Week

“How is it fair that you know who I am but I have to guess about you?”