Stories
Poem of the Week
A plastic Kroger’s bag caught in the chinking—Spelter’s only banner.
Story of the Week
I looked up from the cave floor to see a guy pointing a handgun at us.
Poem of the Week
Rumi advised me to keep my spirit up in the branches of a tree.
Story of the Week
Both dogs were barking now—their barking urgent, hysterically pitched.
Story of the Week
When I wasn’t teaching social studies, I basically lived on my balcony.
iPoems
Oklahoma, a state shaped like a pot, probably some gruel inside.
Poem of the Week
I ought to haul out this junk I called winter and lose it somewhere.
Poem of the Week
As a girl I was raised to sing along with the rest. To praise. Especially men.
Readers' Narratives
Denny and Dad are inseparable. Their tackle boxes are mingled.
Readers' Narratives
My first memory is the day of mourning after John Lennon died.
Story of the Week
Her skin was bruised under her eyes, purple like the swollen toe.
Poem of the Week
I was a darling without even trying, kerchief and dungarees.
Story of the Week
Son, do you know of shame? Then you must know that I cannot feel it.
Story of the Week
He could smell the bear’s breath, feel the hot huff against his ear.
Story of the Week
The wind was like a girl sobbing out her story of betrayal to the stars.
Story of the Week
Emil was busy applying his anger therapy, and it was working.
Poem of the Week
I couldn’t make sense of the ruined house, the love stained to its creases.
Sometimes life is a sequence of departures, sometimes a destruction.
Story of the Week
Maybe all of it was possible. Maybe it all could work out.
Fiction
Maybe this was one thing in his life he had done right, or so he hoped.
Poem of the Week
I see a young ZZ Top smiling, eyes darting from my shirt to my beard.
Poetry
My cry for the first time fastened garlands of hope to the roof.
Fiction
Here they were, two surviving soldiers from opposite sides.
Story of the Week
We left our lives behind us as fast as the Beemer’s zero to sixty.
Poetry
Oh brother,
the eye of the needle is shaking the weather
awake.
Poem of the Week
Death will come for us so fast we will never be able to outrun it.
