Stories
Poem of the Week
For one hundred years I followed old people to learn what I was in for.
Poetry
I let the baby mouse live because I cannot kill what has ears.
Poem of the Week
The appendix on political correctness explains why none of that is funny.
Poem of the Week
You are afraid pain itself might develop a way to communicate.
Poem of the Week
We have harvested nothing more than the stench of middle age.
Poetry
For sixty or maybe seventy years this sidewalk has been lying here.
Poem of the Week
In every pair, one shoe smells of exodus, the other of the body’s sweat.
Poem of the Week
One door teaches to read for meaning and pleasure. Another shuts.
Poetry
As Andromeda, I practiced lapidary, cut my bare foot on the nautilus shell.
Poetry
I want to cut loose from her each wistful sigh I hear escape her lips.
Poetry
His fingers traveling through these notes can assuage, I think, all pain.
Poetry
Why not keep singing when another car pulls up to the light?
Poetry
It’s another thing to have the beloved hesitate, silent, on the porch.
Poem of the Week
she was sixteen, and swimming. she was seventy-one, and soft.
Poetry
When I land we argue over the little hazards a marriage is made of.
Poem of the Week
Tell me our species matters more, tell me that, and I, I will crawl back.
Poetry Contest Winners
The highway hot with possibility, a new herd expected every five miles.
Poem of the Week
When I say I’ve seen a man die, what I mean is many and always.
Poetry
I tell him: junkies are the only people worth talking to about love.
Poetry
“You need me,” says the mind. “I just want what’s best for you.”
Poem of the Week
We need a silvery stream that banks as smoothly as a plane’s wing.
N30B Winners
do you asks pretty sue know what I love what pretty please tell us
Poem of the Week
When push comes to shove, I can get downright Aeolian on you, son.
Poem of the Week
Tears sometimes come in a bottle. Open and apply several times daily.
Poem of the Week
When she sleeps, Shakespeare writes one more sonnet we’ll never read.
Poem of the Week
The five notes, slowly, over & over, and with some light intent.
Poem of the Week
That’s why Mam drinks whiskey. That’s why he drinks whiskey too.
Poem of the Week
We walk in light so steep I can see each single stitch of your sweater.
Poem of the Week
I only feel that here, only here, in this one place, a small rise.
