We believe students and readers everywhere deserve a great and free modern library, inside of which they can get deliriously, entertainingly, profoundly lost. And found.

Stories

Poetry
Cat food smells even unopened like vomit and I don’t trust cats.
Fiction
Design a way to kill those rats, and do it now, Fiori, do it now.
Poetry
Where will we go and how will we steer when the cars are gone?
Nonfiction
What about writers who come suddenly into full power late in life?
Narrative Outloud
What about writers who come suddenly into full power late in life?
Narrative High School Writing Contest
Poem of the Week
You gave me blue and I gave you yellow. Together we are green.
Poetry
What I became was not pretty. Like a needle on water-warped paper.
Story of the Week
When I come to be old, I resolve not to tell the same story over and over.
Story of the Week
If he could not evade a serious question by a joke, he bolted.
Poetry
Re: murdering democracy, oiling the shore, shearing the rain forest.
Poem of the Week
I wouldn’t know what to do with the body, gills pumping like an accordion.
Poem of the Week
there is no place on this earth I can run from my own prejudice
Poem of the Week
it’s hard not to be obsessed with your own shadow I don’t tell him
Fiction
When an adult falls, children are stunned and cry, “Mommy! Mommy!”
Fiction
She had yellow cat eyes that she insisted were also blond.
Poem of the Week
The next time we made love, I looked for the fox looking down at me.
Story of the Week
I had forgotten how to breathe, and then I learned again, all at once.
Poem of the Week
When you write the story of being a father don’t leave out the joy.
Story of the Week
I hightailed it out of the hospital like my ex-wife was a prison I’d escaped.
Fall Contest Winners
Louise watched from the shadow. She was looking for somewhere to land.
Story of the Week
The war was about to begin, and the four boys were
in charge.
Nonfiction
The onus is on you, because you care about your car and your life.
Fiction
While they stand in line Robin leans into his chest. They don't talk.
Short Shorts
It’s like his bottom half is not man but a strong horse.
Story of the Week
A whippoorwill called, a lonely voice among the cedars.
Story of the Week
The lion was still near them, stalking. Crazed against its cautionary nature.
Poem of the Week
Across sage flats, tundra, and bleeding hearts, she escapes.
Nonfiction
There isn’t a nice Jewish boy in sight—not that I’m looking for one.