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
There are only two genders! Ma cries there is one sun, one moon.
Poetry
Relief workers tore swaths of insulation from the rafters of the house.
Poem of the Week
our hands are full of those women tricked or transformed.
Poem of the Week
Is it that he is too tired or too afraid to blink into the oil of his own machine?
Poetry Contest Winners
Everything rushes in. Everything that ever drove me crazy with dumb hope, every letdown.
Poetry
What if it does choose, the egg, I mean, her favorite spermatozoon.
Poem of the Week
Coil of metal, coin of wood, two-headed and soft in the middle.
Poetry
I arrange your five deflating basketballs under the lonely net.
Poem of the Week
Outside, pears swathed in socks ripened, protected from birds.
Poem of the Week
I eat what’s in front of me, as all great men do. Some wouldn’t, but I do.
Poem of the Week
The birds have all flown to Mars for water and Crisco and red.
Poem of the Week
Take some cherry tomatoes, I say when the moon rises over the pine.
Poetry
so easily impressed when wet / so easy / to see through when turned / off
Poem of the Week
The hymn that’s resurrected from the hymnal aspires to the spiritual.
Poem of the Week
The fantasy & its own undoing: that silver might drip from a neck bitten.
Poem of the Week
I hand in my form. I wonder if the doctor with the needles will laugh at me.
Poetry
Small valleys and veins give way to a lifted ridge like a rib or an arm bone.
Poetry
A man drunk on the damage he made to a boy’s young mouth.
Poem of the Week
& I said let there be dark pouring from your mouth at daybreak
Poem of the Week
Warm breath in my ear mouthing a name; rivulet folded back in water.
Poem of the Week
In its shadow, our mislaid secrets cascade down around us.
Poetry
My dear, even my ear is trying to eat itself in its attempt to forget you.
Poem of the Week
I needed more. I worked her lips back and wedged my hand in.
Poetry
She was gone then, inaudible, steeple-reticent, demure as sky.
Poem of the Week
I continue composing my love letter, hoping to love her more.
Poetry
There is a lot about others I don’t remember, outliving an interest.
Poem of the Week
Sometimes one does wade into it or is ambushed as by a incensed fog.
Poem of the Week
It began last spring / Flowers blooming like crazy / No balm to our fear
Poem of the Week
How do wheels and wind-trash weave us into wakefulness?
