Stories
Poem of the Week
That summer we moved to the house you would die in years later.
Poetry
It’s been months, and the fields are good for nothing but night talks.
Poetry
Teams spend days surveying the damage and label me a mess.
Poem of the Week
I want everything to mean. To have worth and weight. But it doesn’t.
Poetry Contest Winners
Standing there in our small shadows, we discuss the ways of the dead.
Poetry
For today, fuck it, it’s snowing, stay in. Eat your Wheaties dry.
Poetry
Here is the fat guy whose Chihuahua gnawed through his stomach.
Poetry
Nothing stills, nothing stops. The world is still as it was before.
Poetry
It’s cruel to watch my edges crystallize and reflect light.
Poem of the Week
Like steps of passing ghosts, the leaves break from the trees.
Poem of the Week
That what I call my Self is asleep, and has dreamed up these lilacs.
Poem of the Week
It’s true, I killed my husband. I had my reasons. He was a hunter on the trail.
Poem of the Week
The Village wasn’t really a village. No walnut trees. Just cut flowers.
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The end’s already in motion, the end was starting this whole time.
Poetry
How many gods do you believe in?
How many good men?
Poetry
Einstein postulated that space and time sit neatly on the same fabric
Poem of the Week
The letters combine into words that resurrect the beloved every time.
Poetry
Fearing for them, I clustered them together, then cut them off.
Poetry
Nothing holds the universe together; nothing is the secret force.
Poem of the Week
She’s not the same, her body more naked in its aging, its disorder.
Poem of the Week
my grandparents lay in a room listening to their legs rub together
Poetry
Mostly, though, you could turn them in your hand, hold them to your nose.
Poem of the Week
You come hot, marching between one blazing Arab & one crazy Jew.
Poem of the Week
Two animals, doe-eyed, slick across the road into the femur of the night.
Poetry
She takes her shirt at the waist and pulls it up slowly: her hips, belly, bra.
Poetry
If party isn’t what we set out to do then you should go home.
Poem of the Week
Today is my favorite kind of day. Night opens, light concedes.
Poem of the Week
If I had known I would have saved the abacus from the fire.
Poetry
Some asshole on a joyride in the outback runs her down, the emu.
Poem of the Week
Once upon a time, a couple wandered in a glass forest, hand in hand.
