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

Story of the Week
Eleanor was the first normal person my brother, Nick, ever dated.
Poetry
I screamed every word and waited for the stones to answer back.
Poem of the Week
She stared back at me, a toddler almost hidden in the folds of her skirt.
Poetry
I have to wait till day to tell you that you’ve sunk down below sea level.
Poetry
Her songs, her records—I entered them. I jumped in and out of myself.
Poem of the Week
He took off his clothes and left them on the living room floor.
Story of the Week
The rich man adorns himself and the elegant man gets dressed.
Nonfiction
Once she said, “Dying is nothing, but . . . the separation!
Classics, Story of the Week
She came from the most worthless of all classes—the rich.
Readers' Narratives
I felt the terrible paradox of grief in the midst of celebration.
Poetry
The signal’s too remote and there’s a delay before we can start again.
Fiction
Just some wine, Ellie told herself. Just to prove she wasn’t chicken.
Story of the Week
The blade was buried to the hilt in the outside corner of his left eye.
Poem of the Week
I take Saturday’s unpopulated trains, since there is no safety in numbers.
Fiction
She heard the lowing of cattle, shouting, the crack of whips.
Fiction
He was regarded as a visionary and a fool in almost equal measure.
Poetry
Here we were, seventeen, trapped by the sheer number of bodies.
Fiction
Here is my father on the last day of his exceptionally long life.
Story of the Week
I pictured myself as a chart inside her head. Two sides: good and bad.
Poetry
Her voice smelled like an orange, though I’d never peeled an orange.
Story of the Week
I’ve made a rigorous effort. But it’s been hard, this hug embargo.
First & Second Looks
Story of the Week
I bought the gun after my therapist said he wouldn’t have sex with me.
Story of the Week
“Listen,” Mike said. “You’ve had a hard day. How about I drive you home?”
Story of the Week
I will never know what my mother guessed or didn’t suspect.
iPoems
I want to be rapt around your linger, not Thumbelina under your dumb.
Six-Word Stories
A political tragedy you won’t lose any sleep over, told in just six words.
Story of the Week
Writing at night just feels . . . sneaky. There’s an outlaw quality to it.
Poem of the Week
Through Joan’s window, my childhood. I want this view.