Stories
Poem of the Week
The danger of the shirt—always, every moment, it is so obvious.
Poem of the Week
The day holds a cup of milk and sits on the couch, legs tucked up.
Poem of the Week
In the truck’s bed, resting where a dog’s might—the dead deer’s head.
Poetry
However hard I trudge and search I cannot find the hills I have climbed.
Poetry
Decay enters us through the eyes. As always I lose focus.
Poem of the Week
The flail is raised high, back bent in echo of the boys’ backs.
Poem of the Week
When I saw her, I was witness and weapon both, charging at her.
Poetry
The goose cannot see the North but knows exactly where it lies.
Poem of the Week
It stood across a narrow side alley where light-green ivy grew.
Poem of the Week
It was cool and dark, azalea in bloom at the edge of the forest.
Poem of the Week
They dust off facts like diamonds that excel in perfection under a monocle.
Poem of the Week
He tossed her over his head like a ballerina, one rough hand on each hip.
Poem of the Week
Francis too had his time in the wilderness, lost in the mountains.
Poetry
Judging beauty, which is keenest, Eye or heart or mind or penis?
N30B Winners
You can always tell the military folk by their even stance, their steady gaze.
Poetry
I told kids I didn’t feel a thing there anymore, but it was a lie.
Poetry Contest Winners
He said, every night you close the store, I watch you walk to your car.
Poetry Contest Winners
A body must learn again how to accept the proprietorial hands of a lover.
Poem of the Week
We had a pact to live outside the adult world forever, and we broke it.
Poem of the Week
Every voice an epitaph, and then a little tune from the neighbor’s yard.
Poem of the Week
so this god is only wood and holes, a blank, like the moon’s unlit side.
Poem of the Week
I wanted to ask what her secret was but I was too busy knitting socks.
Poetry
The dead and alive who we will never see again but in dream or memory.
Poem of the Week
Hands that have waved farewell, sooner or later I will see them again.
Poem of the Week
Will you bless us, who are so in need of blessing? The world tires.
Poem of the Week
The mirror will flow and the heart will set like glass in the frame of his bones.
