Stories
Photography & Art
A clandestine participation through a soundless beauty.
Nonfiction
Art is a way for the mind to master the body, even if it is not one’s own.
Fiction
I was nagged by those boxes from my old life stacked in the garage.
Poetry
she thrust to where her gut bucked acid & gave out a taurine heave
Poetry Contest Winners
I see now that motherhood is not required to speak a mother tongue.
Poetry
cannibal chowder and a kiss by the splashing voices of a pool
Poem of the Week
I lean I stumble toward you hoping you’ve not turned away yet.
Poem of the Week
The windshield’s dirty, the squirter stuff’s all gone, so we drive on.
Poetry
Maybe it’s a Thursday, & I’m coming home to make you dinner.
Poetry
God, I need to know what happened to those who tried to cross.
Poem of the Week
Show me your darkness, your nothing-to-see and everything to touch.
Poetry
Then I graduate to a four-digit mortgage inside an ornate gate.
Poetry
Forgive me, please, for continuing to believe that roses are beautiful.
Poem of the Week
A real or imagined boundary, crossed. End of the line. Lined out.
Poetry
His mooseness was implacable, the light behind him from the trees.
Story of the Week
“Tell me about the things you can’t tell me about when I’m dressed.”
Poem of the Week
An empty day without events. And that is why it grew immense as space.
iPoems
Oar blades, vast swirls of cirrus at dawn. The dead move within us.
Narrative Taste
To me, the very point of cooking is to wildly praise what’s wild.
Poem of the Week
All of this leaves me floating in seas of prehistory and indeterminacy.
Narrative Outloud
A world of adventure awaited, a world of beautiful, available women.
Narrative Outloud
We would just roll down the old biology road like all the other suckers.
Story of the Week
You can’t ask her not to fall in love when she does it on a daily basis.
Winter Contest Winners
Her blood had been stagnant for close to the total of her years.
Story of the Week
“We don’t feel like a couple. Haven’t felt like a couple for a very long while.”
Poem of the Week
money gotten by blood tends to stay in the blood, which has no race.
Story of the Week
What felt like sanctity now felt like nothingness, like death.
