Stories
Poem of the Week
The dove calls from far away in itself to the hush of the morning
Poem of the Week
It is the night of whores and monsters, but without the killings.
Poem of the Week
A psychologist told me we can train our dreams. I practice each night.
N30B Winners
How do you beat a man who refuses to rise from a puddle of his own blood.
Poem of the Week
Let me remember there’s a door inside each flower.
Poem of the Week
Everyone has something lodged and jittering inside them.
Poem of the Week
Exit the building. Say nothing to anyone. They did. And they didn’t.
Narrative High School Writing Contest
I come home in the evenings to Mother scraping my scalp for God.
Poem of the Week
Ajax can answer all this killing only with the killing of himself.
Poetry
Slice a finger while opening a beer can, fizz the gin high in tumblers.
Poem of the Week
We press closer to look at a picture: a handcuffed boy leaning toward us.
Poem of the Week
The emblazoned vessel performed my false and vulgar life—I knelt to it.
iPoems
And both of them standing there in late afternoon light, looking back.
Poetry
“The doors are closed,” she said, and we would not be flying to Paris.
Poetry Contest Winners
Who needs driftwood when I can bury myself in your loamy soil.
Poem of the Week
Neither fame nor wealth could provide consolation for life’s brevity.
Poetry
My love swims you, your shoulders like hard sails under the green curls.
Poetry
She wears her nakedness like it has been woven from air.
Poetry
If life is an open vein, what’s brave about a sleeve-heart, sweetheart?
Poetry
I want to sleep in a bed next to a man who won’t dream of me all night.
Poetry
What’s left is a thumbhouse, an inch of gristle inside skin walls.
Poetry
I never felt heart stop or skin burn, just the first split second of sound.
Poetry
I feel them slice me open and tug, then I smell my own innards burning.
Poetry
I try to believe that even when cords are cut or people die we connect.
Poetry
God was surrounding the chair, leaves flourishing from a sickly tree.
Poetry
The coverage of the state funeral, black horse bearing an empty saddle.
