Explore

The boys came down out of the woods and crossed toward the dock.

“Werewolf Seized in Southend!” “Man Who Made Love to Pavements!”

“Look in my eyes. Do I look like someone who has heard this story?”

In Astoria, Leo and I find a small church on our way to the river.

Throwing the El Camino into drive, he roared down the mountain road.

The new generation doesn’t play war, which is a shame; they text.

Like a bird with a broken wing I will smudge the line of the hopscotch.

Tobias Wolff

Kids were just let out of school to spend the summer running in packs.

Had he been a man, we could’ve saved his life right then and there.

What would you say about the driver of the truck that killed you?

She alone knew how he could be swept up, tender interior laid bare.

The lock surrendered, after a short struggle, to the poker.

A family altar stuffed with dead family hanging now above the TV.

You have to be three times better than the white kids, at everything.

If he was cheating on her, he was cheating on her paintings as well.

Eyes wide open, I offer myself to a new boy and watch him grow.

“Dorm whores” his roommate calls them. They come for the booze.

Beggars know to emerge when you’ve more than enough to give.

This so far is a haunting, the bleeding heart we used to hear about.

Welcome, the place seemed to say, let’s screw with you a little more.

“Make it look like you’re working on a nearby shelf,” Aunt Mary whispered.

We have mysterious inclinations. No one can explain it to us.

Expulsion. He was out, his course set. One word can turn the key.

I remember a child’s fingers on his wrist as they traced the blue.

Barbra Nightingale

Gravity bends together this planet and your life, made of glass.

They come to America and their child is shot down like a wild animal.

My shadow feels my company, my stepping as he steps.

You’ll find me here in the peach orchard, the most I can muster.