Stories
Story of the Week
He shot a spear into a boom timber and pulled the boat to it.
Poem of the Week
The canary-yellow sweater she knit while pregnant with me thawed first.
Poem of the Week
Come winter, they go to the funeral early & count the living.
Poem of the Week
Yang Wan-li said, There’s enough to eat. Who needs a lot of money?
Story of the Week
Hello, women rising up against toxic men. I salute you. And I apologize.
Poetry
Mysteries I’m still trying to solve,
even as I begin to understand.
Poetry
Pummel nests from limbs and drown the furred things in their dens.
iStories
Rules are rules. No one comes this close, this fast. Protocol reigns.
Poem of the Week
Mom could have been an acre away, or doe-still behind the next stalk.
Story of the Week
I danced with Gerard until we were spinning so hard we fell down.
Poem of the Week
I peel back the hours and search for the light before it scatters.
Story of the Week
I’ve got other plans. And they don’t center on ringnecks.
Photography & Art
Havana, Cuba, on the inevitable cusp of change. A photo gallery.
Photography & Art
Hemingway’s Royal typewriter sat atop a volume of Who’s Who.
Story of the Week
Peering into the soap bubbles, she briefly imagined herself inside one.
Poetry
Having held down the past applying pressure to its sacrum . . .
Story of the Week
Some people are so beautiful, they belong everywhere they go.
Poem of the Week
So sault means “jump,” as in sauter in France, but not in New France!
Story of the Week
A dangerous heat came from him, the heat of some interior decay.
Story of the Week
Children were driven by deep yearnings that should be satisfied.
Poem of the Week
You’ve trained me well in the art of intimate distance. It’s not been easy.
Story of the Week
In the thickening smoke the workers clawed and flailed at one another.
Story of the Week
His chest was sweaty and his T-shirt stuck to it, bleeding black.
Poetry
three women came in their nakedness so i could choose from among them
Poem of the Week
In the photograph we look nearly the same. Heft and hewn.
Story of the Week
The world is a riddle of shape and texture, from sight to smell to sound.
Story of the Week
I saw her drunk, with bleary eyes, tousled hair, and a hideous grin.
Story of the Week
The Morgan nosed her for another carrot. She petted his neck. She had loved to canter.
