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.

Authors

Poem of the Week
In the Nablus apartment she remembers rolling hills of citrus.
Poetry
i stored away in my mama’s empty perfume bottles smells and stories
First & Second Looks
What we call Evil is only the necessity of a moment in our eternal evolution.
Story of the Week
A gravely ill man was waiting for me in a village ten miles distant.
Fiction
It was on a mid-June morning that the stranger first called.
Poetry
Make haste, my love, I am redrawing the scale of escape.
iStories
She rocks quickly from side to side, proud, lifting herself higher.
Story of the Week
They’d been together an hour, but they were an easy threesome.
Narrative High School Writing Contest
Graphic Stories
Her family was still poor and hungry and scared.
Poetry
I am left with little Rome for error. I choose wrong, then I revise.
Fiction
The engineers seemed ripe for mockery, some more than others.
Poem of the Week
Hear the voice of life telling you something from the inside out.
Poem of the Week
I should call my loves while I can to listen to the grackles croak.
Story of the Week
She was laughing. Something animal in me was sparked, and I chased her.
Fiction
It’s way past 10 p.m. and we have no idea where our child is.
Poetry
Who are we? Without one another, who will we be?
Poem of the Week
I’ve sinned. Cannot be saved. He was a child. Surely he went to heaven.
Poem of the Week
I hear my brother’s wife whisper, It’s her again. Let the machine get it.
Poem of the Week
If you didn’t listen you would think it was a cry for help or sympathy.
Poem of the Week
The child at the rummage sale— more souvenirs than memories.
Poetry
The hound, the leash, the fence, the hens. So many of them.
Poem of the Week
The windshield’s dirty, the squirter stuff’s all gone, so we drive on.
Story of the Week
Jack picked me up in a car with a greasy-potato sex smell.
Story of the Week
We know that we were lied to, the disaster was worse than we feared.
Story of the Week
I’m not afraid of dying. I’ve died on camera before. It’s not so bad.
Poetry
You can stand on the edge and tremble with fear or risk your life.
Poem of the Week
If everyone’s lost on the roads, you might as well fly. Enjoy your life.
iPoems
The first time we love, how tight we hang on to keep from drowning.
Poem of the Week
Snug in the spell of a cradle rocking, I remember the first time I floated.
Narrative High School Writing Contest
We are in his car. “Bell, I’m starving. Want to go for a burger or pizza?” I panic. Pizza. 285 calories per slice. Burgers. Harder to estimate.
Story of the Week
Sitting beside a heap of steaming dung I felt in great poetic form.
Poem of the Week
Bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees, and fill all fruit with ripeness.
Fiction
Don’t tell him you’re a virgin, says Peggy. You’ll freak him out.
Poem of the Week
I was a darling without even trying, kerchief and dungarees.
Poetry
I say aria, scale of the day, weigh each square foot she’s kept up.
Story of the Week
I had forgotten how to breathe, and then I learned again, all at once.
Poetry
I screamed every word and waited for the stones to answer back.
Story of the Week
Two weeks after she and Mark were married, Hannah fell in love.
Poem of the Week
The birds have all flown to Mars for water and Crisco and red.
Poem of the Week
I was a son again until my parents died. Even then, I felt like myself.
Poem of the Week
I loved the game not for its shapes alone, but for symmetry’s quiet flash.
Poetry Contest Winners
I wanted to forget my parents’ slow dying together in Ohio.
Spring Contest Winners
Their breath rose in small clouds. Their flag rippled above them.
Fiction
Brod stopped her before she could fling the latte in Marcella’s face.
Poetry
I drag my sheets as Earth drags her tangled mess of tides.
iPoems
The kissed fingerpad touched wet with wine orbiting.
Poem of the Week
As the whorled fingerpad loves Morse, but more so. Worse.
Poem of the Week
Lufthansa lifts off under me. The set sun disinters, a fanned cinder.
Poetry
Re: murdering democracy, oiling the shore, shearing the rain forest.
Poem of the Week
Here: geeky cyber-warriors crunch cheese Cheetos over keyboards.
Poem of the Week
We need to stop talking about it, we need to put some pants on.
Poetry
I stuff cotton in my ears, bits of bird’s nest, anything to stop all that talk.
Story of the Week
“Who is it?” Irina asked at the door. “Open up,” a voice commanded.
Story of the Week
The Others came in the light of day and splayed Father open.
Poem of the Week
Vultures liked to perch on the austere ledge outside my window.
Poem of the Week
There’s anger in the sound of a V-8 engine that puts me at ease.
Narrative High School Writing Contest
You can learn to exhale. Let the marrow of dusk leak onto your knees. Tongues rattling, we are scared into daughters again & again. The act of silence: heavy as rain. Heavy enough to believe in.
Narrative High School Writing Contest
I want to be bright scarves, soft rain, seabirds pecking at receipts.
Poetry
I can only say I am here searching solo for remnants of Seoul Drive
Story of the Week
A Midwestern man is never without his knife. Half of us carry guns.
Poetry
She takes her shirt at the waist and pulls it up slowly: her hips, belly, bra.
Story of the Week
“Wanna give it a go?” my brother asks, nudging me with his 12-gauge.
Story of the Week
He got people on the conveyor belt that carried them up to heaven.
iStories
This skinny blonde steps on the stage in a skimpy Balinese costume.
Poem of the Week
It’d only take a slight shift to realize his new world isn’t a danger to him.
Poetry Contest Winners
The animals are dying. All the beautiful women are dying too.
Fiction
What does it take for a woman like you to decide to do something?
Poem of the Week
“Pick your switch,” says my father and I’m stepping out into the forest.
Classics
I have to say I am relieved it is over: at the end I could feel only pity.
Poetry
Imagine octopus, and keep the talk going through the chew.
Poem of the Week
No salt tears, and a continent between her ashes and Father’s.
Story of the Week
They would find certain and awful death in Afghanistan.
Fiction
She looks in the mirror above the sink, and her image makes eye contact.
Poem of the Week
I crouched just like my mother burying nail clippings to ward off curses.
Story of the Week
The boy imagined his dead grandfather haunting the world.
Fiction
Abe shot himself, first year out of high school. Assholes said he was queer.
Story of the Week
Home, I thought. This was the new country I had been yearning for.
Story of the Week
Stories are places to live. We live in stories. What we are is stories.
Poem of the Week
It was our flesh with its deadly sweetness that led them on.
Poetry
Here is my aphorism of the day: Happy people are monogamous.
iPoems
You are with outsized footnotes that have tracked across the Internet.
Photography & Art
A clandestine participation through a soundless beauty.
Story of the Week
After breakfast I set out to see what my wild neighbors have been up to.
Poem of the Week
Everything doesn’t have to mean something, he once said. Now that he’s a father, I want to read him the thing I’m writing about fathers.
Fiction
We didn’t give the order to drop the bomb. But thank God somebody did.
Story of the Week
I dream of snakes coming out of me and through the house to find her.
Story of the Week
Eleanor was the first normal person my brother, Nick, ever dated.
Story of the Week
“You could come, too! No one’s forcing you to go to fucking China.”
Poem of the Week
So sault means “jump,” as in sauter in France, but not in New France!
Poem of the Week
Tear-streaked mascara, mascara-stained cheeks: a cataract of woe.
Story of the Week
Don’t start conversations or attract attention. Don’t be suspicious.
Fiction
I’m still in love with this filthy city, but now I know Berlin's love isn’t free.
Poem of the Week
It’s silly, I know, half-expecting to see Apollo playing lyre to a muse.
Poetry
I know which home takes the turning, which mind washes in hot water.
Poem of the Week
My husband collects bruises, counts how many rise above the skin.
Poetry
I’m told that even during war, she took the time to put on lipstick.
Poetry Contest Winners
How much, I thought, such stolid suffering resembles love. Planets don’t change direction as easily as love.
Poetry
Her voice smelled like an orange, though I’d never peeled an orange.
Poetry
Lie down & whisper all your careless dreams into my votive ear.
Poetry
For sixty or maybe seventy years this sidewalk has been lying here.
iPoems
All night, rain from the distant past. I sometimes waken as a child.
iPoems
The old dog of inertia gets up with a growl and shrinks out of the way.
Poem of the Week
The world beyond the windows slowly tips forward into spring.
Poem of the Week
I wanted to ride this day down into night, to smooth the unreadable page.
Poetry
They peer into their mirrors to see whatever is bearing down.
Poetry
Before sunrise I counted nine meteors scratching the heavens.
Poetry
I fell asleep wondering to whom the tree might have been writing.
Poem of the Week
We could hear the parade three blocks before it arrived at our corner.
Poetry
Our dog had held down what we had by pressing his belly to the floors.
iPoems
Frail as a breath, it broke at once, leaving a tiny kiss in my fingers.
Poem of the Week
I once watched a man wax a hallway with an overweight rotary brush.
iPoems
He began singing, the words to a song that played from hidden speakers.
Poetry
Nine day-care children are out for a walk on a winter morning.
Poem of the Week
The tall, flashing curtains of glass keep them a breath’s thickness apart.
Poetry
Those eight or nine steps climbed toward a small, low window.
Poetry
Delighted to be there, celestial together, as high as you get.
Fiction
Long and black, almost thick, the night comes to drape my shoulders.
Nonfiction
They lived on the street, their mom a prostitute and heroin addict.
Narrative High School Writing Contest
There are elephants in the hall looking for their mothers.
Story of the Week
The everlasting shines through in the threshold between worlds.
Poem of the Week
On the swings in the park, a woman sounds an off-key minor chord.
Poetry
I want to cut loose from her each wistful sigh I hear escape her lips.
Poem of the Week
I have already begun the life-long work of hating my father.
Poem of the Week
In all the faded retellings of that night, there’s a lot he left out.
Story of the Week
It’s difficult to be blessed by Madam Pele. She gives wonderful trouble.
Poetry
“Leaving for war, Hayes wept. He didn’t just cry; he wept...”
Poem of the Week
People believe; The whole world is part of something.
Features
Follow your dog, and you might just live to write for another day.
Poem of the Week
Fires, always fires after midnight, the sun depending in the purple birches.
Graphic Stories
I decided to go for the least lousy choice and have the surgery.
Readers' Narratives
Fiction
Cassandra blared Puccini and Eminem so she would not pray.
Interviews
It’s best for my heart to have hours and hours each day to write.