Fiction — Tuesday, May 15, 2012 12:40
Condoms On Christmas – Dave O’Leary
I woke up Christmas morning alone. It’s the way I wake up every morning, of course, but not my preferred ... Read More
Fiction — Tuesday, May 8, 2012 13:30
And We Are In Love – B. Kari Moore
I The two had been married for a while now, living together even longer. There was a rh ... Read More
Fiction — Tuesday, April 24, 2012 13:51
Bully-Cops—Katie Hoffman
Which is what I don’t understand in the air—in the mass that makes the porridge, where the cigarette smoke ... Read More Fiction — Tuesday, April 17, 2012 13:49
The Star Of Darfur—Mischa KK Bagley
Amongst the families was a girl bearing the Hebraic name of Sarah. She had sixteen summers, and was a widow. S ... Read More
Condoms On Christmas – Dave O’Leary
Tuesday, May 15, 2012 12:40
I woke up Christmas morning alone. It’s the way I wake up every morning, of course, but not my preferred way to do such. I can handle the quiet solitude of late nights playing with the word over a few drinks, of pacing back and forth in my apartment as I fish for the right phrase, sipping and turning and sipping and turning and then running to the laptop when inspiration comes. I’ve dropped beers doing such. I’ve fallen down, banged my knee on the corner of the futon, cursed at the top of my lungs, “Son of a bitch!” [...]
And We Are In Love – B. Kari Moore
Tuesday, May 8, 2012 13:30
I The two had been married for a while now, living together even longer. There was a rhythm they were used to. “You might want to put your headphones in,” she said. “I’m going to watch a little television.” So he put headphones in, and she watched a show about dancing. II Some mornings she’d wake to find him banging drawers open and closed. She would lay for a second or two, see if he could find what he was looking for alone. When he couldn’t, she’d sit up, watching him put on cufflinks. “Is it socks?” He [...]
Eggs
Tuesday, May 1, 2012 15:14
Herald stood at the refrigerator door, palpating the egg he had just taken from the carton. He had made the carton himself from wood pulp and old newspapers. He also farmed the egg himself, from his chickens that he had out back in the chicken coop, which was a little shack that he had built especially for the hens. Herald was proud of his industrious nature and felt close to his work. He continued to feel the egg. Something was off. It was heavy. He shifted it from one hand to the other, letting it drop a little into each [...]
Bully-Cops—Katie Hoffman
Tuesday, April 24, 2012 13:51
Which is what I don’t understand in the air—in the mass that makes the porridge, where the cigarette smoke goes, where you see and fake to see.
The Star Of Darfur—Mischa KK Bagley
Tuesday, April 17, 2012 13:49
Amongst the families was a girl bearing the Hebraic name of Sarah. She had sixteen summers, and was a widow. She was also a mother, though both her children were dead.
The answer isn't poetry, but rather language
- Richard Kenney
