• Nate Lippens ~ The Universe Says No

    Once Jane real­ized she had mis­tak­en masochism for per­se­ver­ance, leav­ing was a song on con­tin­u­ous play. On I‑5 to Sea-Tac, she watched tall pines zip by. How had life got­ten so small?

    In Chicago, art sup­plies went in stor­age. Jane wait­ed for signs while –more

  • David Salner ~ Four Poems

    A Meditation on the Land
    remem­ber­ing a farm foreclosure.
                                            For Darrell Ringer, 1953–93

    Thank you,” he said, while the –more

  • Eldis Sula ~ The Offer Letter

    I get the offer let­ter for my new job while sit­ting in the hos­pi­tal with my grand­ma. She frac­tured her hip.

    When it comes in, the first thing I think is how abrupt­ly I found this job. It’s been a year set off by my lay­off and a can­cer diag­no­sis that –more

  • Steve Gergley ~ In the Garden of Earthly Delights

    Me and Kyoko were dri­ving home from a nice pas­ta din­ner at our old friend Gretchen’s house when God appeared in the back seat of our car and grant­ed Kyoko one wish for sav­ing Gretchen’s life all those years ago at Action Park.

    So what’s your –more

  • Kevin Grauke ~ Yellow House Jazz

    Jon was always sit­ting there in his low-slung chair, always dim­ly glow­ing in the yel­low warmth of his lamp, always smok­ing, always drink­ing black cof­fee from a cup that, between sips, always sat on the mug warmer next to the ash­tray on the side table –more

  • Mileva Anastasiadou ~ Fake Plastic Everything

    The rich shrink can’t help him­self when he’s depressed, can’t self-med­icate with pills and stuff, he needs a ther­a­pist to help him out, to sell his house and clean his mess.

    You should buy that house, my ther­a­pist says and I trust him, it’s –more

  • Ruth A. Rouff ~ Anne Boleyn Speaks

    In today’s par­lance, with which I
    am quite famil­iar, having
    been a wraith for nigh on five
    hun­dred years, one might say I had
    “dri­ve.” In that I was ahead of
    my time, always “lean­ing in”
    always push­ing –more

  • Sandra Arnold ~ I’ll Get Back to You

    Sign here, Sandra. It includes every­thing we agreed on before you left New Zealand.” Hussein, the CEO, slid the con­tract across his desk.

    Thanks. I’ll have it back to you tomorrow.”

    Tomorrow? Don’t you trust me?”

    I glanced at the print-out –more

  • George Singleton ~ Bobbleheads

    Instead of relax­ing, or mea­sur­ing my breaths, or con­cen­trat­ing on low­er­ing my heart­beat, or think­ing about a pos­si­ble APB, I sat in the hot springs, near-December, plot­ting how to ruin the lives of a group of high school kids. I can­not say that I’m not proud of it. Who cares? Overall, it might be good for them to learn how they can’t ruin a stranger’s life, a per­son who want­ed only to cap­ture them smil­ing, wear­ing clothes they’d prob­a­bly not wear for anoth­er year unless they hap­pened to be church­go­ers. And I would bet that—because of their lies, their ratio­nal­iza­tion that mak­ing shit up about me would be what Jesus wanted—they attend­ed not only on Sundays, but Wednesday nights, as is the norm down here.

                “You find­ing every­thing all right, Gerald?” Vivian asked. She got in the water across from me and stretched her legs out until our toes near­ly touched. I wished that I remem­bered her from two-to-three decades –more

  • Mik Grantham ~ At the End of the World

    I first came here in late August. Not used to the heat. I sat alone in an air-con­di­tioned bar drink­ing High Life, hop­ing to make a new friend, hop­ing some­one would catch my eye. I flirt­ed with a stranger. Little crin­kles formed around his eyes –more

  • Rekha Valliappan ~ Elephant Sutra

    Nature’s great mas­ter­piece, an elephant—the only harm­less great thing.
                       –John Donne

    Hanging on the wall in our spare bed­room is one of the few pieces of art I own. It was bought dur­ing a bad time in my life. My boyfriend –more

  • Oh, Alvar

  • Wait, did I eat my homework?

  • Meg Pokrass ~ Sandtrap

    Too Much Heat

    The dog was hot. She could see this because she felt it her­self. Even out­side of the cot­tage, hot and sticky, a guest in her body, want­i­ng to leave. Not near­ly as uncom­fort­able as the dog, with so much fur. Today there were gnats in the air, tast­ing –more

  • John Salter ~ The American’s Tale

    Woman from Bulgaria, whose name I for­got right away: I was lying about lov­ing the gudul­ka. Truth is, I’d nev­er heard a gudul­ka, at least that I was aware of. But you were so far from home I could tell you would appre­ci­ate some mea­sure of val­i­da­tion. –more