Stories
Poetry
My daddy used to yodel. That’s not all. He'd wear plaid shorts & guinea Ts.
Poetry
Two bikers, the bartender, me, and a skinny girl in skintight blue jeans.
Poetry
At night the voices on the patio sound like small darting birds.
Poetry
Years ago I wanted parallel lives, to see how it turns out for all of me.
Poetry
How large our muscles have to be to lift our wings even a single time.
Poetry
My brush an M-16, thirty-round clips for tubes of paint, all of them red.
Poetry
Even the busiest of businessmen are out for the count, paying the price.
Poetry
Soon everything here will be sopped up by time. Only art will last.
Poetry
There’s nowhere he can kiss where she hasn’t been kissed by the sun.
Poetry
A child no bigger than small change calls from her window j’ai faim.
Poetry
Through the dark, we say, through the dark: but do we ever really know?
Poetry
Regarding the affairs of our Father, your demon is Ennui.
Narrative Outloud
He was just a bully, uncivilized, out of control, and wanting to lash out.
Narrative Outloud
He was just a bully, uncivilized, out of control, and wanting to lash out.
Story of the Week
“What’s the shittiest thing you’ve ever done to someone?” she said.
