Stories
iPoems
Sixty-year-old veins look like giant roots breaking through earth’s skin.
Story of the Week
Love speaks in silence, on behalf of lovers too tired for words.
Story of the Week
There was a shout, then a shot fired. I pressed the shutter again and again.
Story of the Week
She looks down the street for Scott’s truck. He’s late but so is she.
iStories
“We’re not like other species,” you say, a novelist at night.
Graphic Stories
Her family was still poor and hungry and scared.
Poetry
You’re standing too close to a lit house which could be yours—is it yours?
Poem of the Week
Hear the voice of life telling you something from the inside out.
Poetry
Where is the door that will take
us to the world where memory lives?
Readers' Narratives
After several months, I worked up the courage to share a war poem.
Short Shorts
I’m recalling his socks, the inked initials, the splashes of blood.
Poem of the Week
Like every thing made, the photograph intimates a view.
Story of the Week
“Who is it?” Irina asked at the door.
“Open up,” a voice commanded.
Poetry
Is that coffee you have, or the hell of fusion in your cupped hands?
Poetry
Is anybody out there? Nobody answered, and I felt archaic as prayer.
Poetry
The first skeleton drawn from the earth, they called beautiful.
Poetry
I wanted my love to be everywhere, then love began to bite through me.
Poetry
“Leaving for war, Hayes wept. He didn’t just cry; he wept...”
Poetry
Flesh is temporary, memory a tilting barn dismantled nail by nail.
Poetry
From a pyre on the burning ghat a corpse slowly sits up in the flames.
Poetry
In my head at least, you thrive, you die in this mix of ghost and gone.
Poetry
My brother stealing all the lightbulbs, my parents live without light.
Poetry
Arriving on earth’s paradise, wearing only light for their bodies.
