• Joe Kapitan ~ Four Occasions


    I was going to have Michelangelo’s bake you a huge cas­sa­ta birth­day cake with mul­ti­ple tiers, and hol­lowed out in the mid­dle so I could jump out and sur­prise you, but then I asked myself—am I what you would choose to have pop out of a cake? Might –more

  • Anna Mantzaris ~ The Arrival

    They heard about the retreat cen­ter from a friend of a friend. They heard about it from an ex-cowork­er, an ex-lover, an ex-in-law. They liked the pho­tos on the web­site. They imag­ined them­selves sit­ting on the pret­ty lit­tle bench in the pret­ty lit­tle –more

  • Marc Tweed ~ Avunculus

    The birds here sound like alarm clocks from the 1970s. I’m watch­ing two in particular—five if you count babies who sound more like key fobs. A Steller’s Jay har­ries a small­er bird guard­ing a nest. The Steller’s Jay crash­es through fir fronds, –more

  • Soft White Underbelly ~ Ruby

    Interview with Ruby from “Soft White Underbelly” on YouTube.

  • Old Celebrities You Didn’t Realize Are Still Alive Today

    Nothing to see here.

  • Peter Krumbach ~ Five Pieces

    The Word Problem Effect

    When a rain­drop begins to descend from the height of one mile over York, Pennsylvania, it is four o’clock in the after­noon. The drop is gray blue, par­tial­ly magen­ta. At the same time in Lexington, Kentucky, train A leaves the sta­tion head­ing west. –more

  • Amanda McIlveen ~ Poems


    Our tongues ring
    like bells, your
    fin­gers groan up
    the back of my

    We fill this
    space with a
    lot of things


    your point­ed feet
    the bridge of your mouth
    for­tune cookies

    the way I escape
    death each



    I found you cry­ing in a –more

  • Julia Tausch ~ Kinsley and Charlie

    This sto­ry is inspired by and named for the daugh­ters of Amanda Stanton, Minor Star of Bachelor Nation, Year 2016


    Our names are Kinsley and Charlie. We are wait­ing for our moth­er to come home.

    In Los Angeles, in a man­sion, our moth­er is falling in love –more

  • Frankie McMillan ~ Three Prose Poems

    What baby wants

    We got him a rock­ing horse but our baby com­plained it was made of wood and it wasn’t very nice for the tree, and we tried to explain how one thing always dis­places anoth­er, but our baby was hav­ing none of it. He lay in my wife’s arms, a tiny frown –more

  • Crow Jonah Norlander ~ Hairstyle Eras

    Her hus­band nev­er dis­suad­ed her, though he didn’t love every look. Annually, there’d be a new ’do—different lengths, tex­tures, col­ors, and shapes. Twenty years in, she got dras­tic and asked, Should I cut it all off? Yes, he said with­out hes­i­ta­tion, –more

  • Meg Pokrass & Jeff Friedman ~ Three Short Pieces

    Out of Touch

    He touched the win­dow, and the win­dow dis­solved. A hum­ming­bird hov­ered, star­ing into his eyes, then flew away. A bee bounced off his cheek, and a fly cir­cled his head. He caught it, but when he opened his hand, the fly was gone. He picked up a glass –more

  • Steve Lambert ~ A Minor Character

    You got­ta love the Sharon Lipschutzes of the world,” says James.  “You real­ly do.”

    Rachel turns the page of her book and looks over at her hus­band.  “Sharon Lipschutz?”  She squints at the cov­er of his book even though she already knows –more

  • S. S. Mandani ~ This Is a Stickup Story

    Twenty-two grams in. Thirty-four grams out.

    Shot for shot for shot.

    I tweak the dial, get­ting close to the per­fect grind.

    This ain’t no mocha hut. Man, this is a legit cof­fee shop,” yells the barista from the morn­ing shift. He’s con­vinc­ing him­self –more

  • Kip Knott ~ Outswimming Monsters

    Long before Callum ever took his first step into the murky waters of Loch Ness, he knew what lurked below. Callum’s moth­er had always been fas­ci­nat­ed with the idea of undis­cov­ered crea­tures liv­ing among us. And because of her proud Scottish her­itage, –more

  • Timothy Boudreau ~ We Dream, We See Dragonflies

    Green & Blue

    Two insects thin-limbed as grasshop­pers with but­ter­fly wings, one spring­time green, one fairy­tale blue, flut­ter, flick­er, land on your fin­gers in the sun-spilled kitchen. You stand beside the win­dow with the insects on your fin­gers. –more