Authors

Story of the Week

He ached to move into and out of her body and make her feel him fiercely.

Poetry

Picture the thing you want most. True love? A new car? Let it go.

Poetry

Trysting lovers kissed while breezes fidgeted the leaves.

iStories

I thought fleetingly he might give it to me, as he knew I wanted it.

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Story of the Week

He was trying to seduce me with his history, which was mine as well.

Poem of the Week

Redemption is a broken bar on a cage. Loss is a sky of stars.

Poem of the Week

There is a pinhole of light through the fog. A skiff on a lake.

Poetry

All roads lead to Rome, but all trails take you to Oklahoma.

Poem of the Week

Death will come for us so fast we will never be able to outrun it.

Poem of the Week

Lost land, this is a song for the scars on your back, for your blistered feet.

Poetry

Decay enters us through the eyes. As always I lose focus.

Poem of the Week

In the photograph we look nearly the same. Heft and hewn.

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Fiction

Stripped we are — no mark of wealth or rank upon us. We wear our skins.

Fiction

“We have heard that this blackened smear is art. We do not see it.”

Poem of the Week

If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you time is a language I don’t speak.

Poetry

No fields of gold. No ripe. One hill, no wave, no roll. I am billboards.

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Fiction

Miriam slept at the ranch often, although little sleep happened there.

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Poem of the Week

We are good at thinking we can stay. We are good at finding hurt.

Poem of the Week

It takes you more than ten thousand years to orbit the sun.

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Interviews

The excuse, of course, was that men had to support families.

N30B Winners

We were hurtling close to a hundred miles an hour through the dark.

Fiction

His mother’s face had been that pretty, though more resigned.

Poetry

There is beauty in the way she looks at me over the kitchen table.

Spring Contest Winners
Poem of the Week

What that truth is doesn’t matter, finally, because of your persistence.

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Story of the Week

Her hips, her pelvis, broke free of concerns. His eyes hovered.

Winter Contest Winners

Our life is fine as it is, she would say to him, and it seemed true.

Story of the Week

When his father was out cold he tied him up, roping his arms to his sides.

Story of the Week

He knew deep down that only her ridiculous optimism kept them going.

Narrative Outloud

The author reads her story, a finalist in the Winter 2013 Story Contest.

Poem of the Week

I will have to remember the man’s hooded eyes as he watches.

Story of the Week

The man said in a hard voice, “I wanna fuck you, little Indian girl.”

Story of the Week

Once she had loved him. When had she stopped? She did not know.

Poem of the Week

His mouth hardens whenever their son’s name is mentioned.

Poetry

Her body is no longer the source of pleasure but constant pain.

Poetry

It wasn’t the bees I thought to tell but wasps the evening you died.

Six-Word Stories

A snapshot of loneliness and vice in this powerful six-word story.

Story of the Week

The old man drinks some more liquor and whacks down two trees.

Poem of the Week

The day holds a cup of milk and sits on the couch, legs tucked up.

Poetry

It’s cruel to watch my edges crystallize and reflect light.

Poetry

The field wants to stretch the hours, wants to be empty for us.

Poetry

Is that coffee you have, or the hell of fusion in your cupped hands?

Poem of the Week

I take Saturday’s unpopulated trains, since there is no safety in numbers.

Poem of the Week

Bill Evans’s quiet solo was walking out on unbelievably thin ice.

iPoems

How did the light take forty years to work its way across that room.

iPoems

Even our tenderest buds and shoots endure the late snow.

Poetry

My books, I can hardly read them, they make so much sense.

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First & Second Looks

Trees had been old men with beards when the woods were still whips.

Photography & Art

The photo portraits express the unguarded essence of each author.

Poem of the Week

It swims for a while, but abandons itself, slips from its own grasp.

Poem of the Week

A boy watching another boy lucky gets an ache. That is a small motor.

Poem of the Week

The danger of the shirt—always, every moment, it is so obvious.

Poem of the Week

What I eat, that heap has eaten. What I like, it gets, but less of.

Poem of the Week

The places in between places are like countries themselves.

Poem of the Week

You gave me blue and I gave you yellow. Together we are green.

Poem of the Week

A pie can’t go to college, work hard for the grades, two jobs on the side.

Photography & Art

My mother said a woman’s handbag is more private than her body.

Story of the Week

Children were driven by deep yearnings that should be satisfied.

Poem of the Week

The cicada will crawl up a tree and leave the murmur of skin.

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Interviews

I recoil from the certitude that religion can give a person; it’s horrific.

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Poetry

I’m going to save up against the flood and stagger to carry nothing.

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Story of the Week

Go came up with the idea that all things were part of a good conspiracy.

Story of the Week

Their eyes met from time to time. I thought about what I could tell her.

Story of the Week

Somebody would be a lot happier if she were more like her mother.

Poetry

what happens in all these villages after we ride through them?

Poem of the Week

The celebration stops, like a sparrow hitting a sliding-glass door.

Poetry

When a cobra eats it starts with the head, goes to the place that thinks.

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Story of the Week

Mikey said the hole wouldn’t lead to China, but he was frequently wrong.

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Poetry

How large our muscles have to be to lift our wings even a single time.

Poem of the Week

Our spirits are as transparent as the gown my wife wears in bed.

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Poetry Contest Winners

I sit next to a man I never loved but let kiss me wetly for two months.

Poem of the Week

I am a pornography of small promises, the chugging gin of the universe.

Poetry

Anne Marie Rooney

Poetry

What I became was not pretty. Like a needle on water-warped paper.

Poem of the Week

I bring out the emergency in people and I don’t know why.

N30B Winners

The Bengalis negotiate their space with corrupt politicians and landsharks.

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Fiction

Lily hated Ray’s cancer. She couldn’t see it or cure it.

First & Second Looks
Story of the Week

Nothing happened to him? Why, genius had happened to him!

Poem of the Week

The neighbor needs his blaring-music his car-cocoon of sound

Story of the Week

He cut down on beer and moved into the hotel that had my name.

Poem of the Week

If I had known I would have saved the abacus from the fire.

Poetry

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

iStories

“Tell me how it felt”—he narrows his eyes—“when you first saw her.”

Poetry

My body. Stop the air. Travel by stopping, full stop, just there.

Poem of the Week

On her sixty-second birthday Marge Olson got a call, not a gift.

Poetry

After the child died they mourned oddly. She wanted another.