Stories
Poem of the Week
she was sixteen, and swimming. she was seventy-one, and soft.
Story of the Week
Their mother was the real beauty of the family, or so everyone said.
Story of the Week
When Roy got to school he told his friend Jimmy Boyle about the dead body.
Poetry
When I land we argue over the little hazards a marriage is made of.
Poem of the Week
Tell me our species matters more, tell me that, and I, I will crawl back.
Poetry Contest Winners
The highway hot with possibility, a new herd expected every five miles.
Fiction
“Please, please, please,” she begged the class. “Please don’t do it.”
First & Second Looks
A raucous voice I raise in praiseful song, but it’s myself I praise.
Poem of the Week
When I say I’ve seen a man die, what I mean is many and always.
Nonfiction
Fitzgerald was about to turn thirty and felt the press of time.
Poetry
I tell him: junkies are the only people worth talking to about love.
Fiction
The problem with my mother is that she thinks everyone a fool.
The signs of destruction confirm his apocalyptic suspicions, but they also satisfy his desire to “get it all over with.”
iStories
Howard found himself dancing the merengue with a buxom Puerto Rican.
At fifteen, Sam is becoming wise to the ambiguities of the world. And at fifteen, she can’t yet accept them.
Story of the Week
I tried mightily, but no longer could I ladle those ancient words into the air.
Narrative Outloud
The girl marched directly up to me, glaring, and said, “You hit my dog.”
Poetry
“You need me,” says the mind. “I just want what’s best for you.”
Poem of the Week
We need a silvery stream that banks as smoothly as a plane’s wing.
N30B Winners
do you asks pretty sue know what I love what pretty please tell us
Story of the Week
The elevator inside him begins to fall with dizzying speed.
Poem of the Week
When push comes to shove, I can get downright Aeolian on you, son.
Fiction
The pillow into which her face was turned muffled her voice.
Poem of the Week
Tears sometimes come in a bottle. Open and apply several times daily.
Narrative High School Writing Contest
Women should hate it when people whistle at their backs as they walk past.
Nonfiction
Later, in a sudden about-face, she gives herself to him entirely.
Story of the Week
I didn’t trust her. Relationships like ours aren’t built on trust.
