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

iStories
A lawyer, senator, judge; laws are what he lives for. His left eye squints involuntarily.
Poem of the Week
On a jet stream, unearthly, air can travel at hundreds of miles per hour.
Readers' Narratives
Six-Word Stories
Here's a great way to tell the comedy of sex in only six words.
Story of the Week
Joshua was well versed in things to which I was not yet privy, like sex.
Poetry
I remember a field too long as the stem of a pear chosen in Upstate.
Graphic Stories
Fly through 13 billion years of history in this graphic story.
Poetry
The woman who raised the woman who raised me was a mistress.
Fiction
He’s gonna change the way we farm around here. Make it more like India.
Poem of the Week
The one who sold me a smuggled gun sold me smuggled bullets.
Fiction
Is there some one way a guy should be on his wedding day, dickwad?

Our Bodies, Our Words

Thirty-eight years after its initial publication, the revised, updated Our Bodies, Ourselves sits in the front row of my double-stacked bookshelf. The reason for its lasting influence, I
believe, is . . .
Story of the Week
Loss. That word echoed in my ears as my eyes ranged around the garden.
Story of the Week
Our neighbors the Bells are watching, watching us when we play outside.
Story of the Week
The rifle slams into my shoulder. Smoke pummels the air.
Nonfiction
I don’t need to consult a healer to feel the aura glowing around us.
First & Second Looks
iPoems
In the garden this morning, I thought for a moment I saw T’ao Ch’ien.
Fiction
“Out to lunch,” she learns from an older colleague, is a euphemism.
Story of the Week
The architect is twice my age and owns an ivy-covered house.
Story of the Week
The sedan clipped their front bumper and pitched Bill’s car into a slide.
N30B Winners
The Bengalis negotiate their space with corrupt politicians and landsharks.
Story of the Week
I was never nonchalant. I was more intense than Kirk Douglas.
Fiction
Eight years, and she was ready to call it quits. They were both ready.
Story of the Week
Mom often went to work on her days off. The library was her refuge.
Story of the Week
The stories of terror continued well after the tsunami had passed.
Poetry
Owen falls. Like a dummy. Like he’s dead even before he dies.
Narrative Outloud
Iherde ich holde grete tale, an owle and one niyhtingale.