By Stanley Plumly
The euphemism is “infusion” when confusion is what happens, and depends on no time in particular especially…
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- By Stanley PlumlyThe end, I think, will be a little like looking down as far as I can see to where the wind has kicked…
- By Shira HausI prayed for my friend to live and he didn’t. I held his puffy hand, his heart jumping green on the…
- By Sasha DugdaleThe downs are certainly lovely, although by mortal loveliness
did you mean they would disappear one day… - By Emma TrellesLittle witches, she calls them, appearing on the lawn in a snap, thumbelina morada at our feet and spiked…
- By Lindsay TigueMy messages have exceeded the storage limit and I covet a home. The cat and dog wait for me in particular…
- By Lindsay TigueHave you ever searched for tunnels behind bookshelves? Have you ever zoomed out quickly on Google maps…
- By Harryette MullenWe all crawl under the weather, despite pleading innocence, found guilty in view of a punishing sun…
- By Adedayo AgarauThe mothers are weaving their hair & talking about chickens. Iya Jide, who has poultry with twelve …
- By Yasmine AmeliSa’id goes missing. Forty years later, my mama tells me his poems got into the wrong hands. It is the…
- By Yasmine AmeliIn another story, my baba bozorg paints flowers. He is little. His name Amir means shah, but the shah…
- By Yasmine AmeliNanny’s husband is dead, and her six children are growing. Every morning, she readjusts her one fake…
- By Petr HruškaTranslated By Jonathan BoltonThey had already sat down on the bed. Then the man
remembered the back door was still open. He groped… - By Jorie GrahamThe blades like irises turning very fast to see you completely—steel-blue then red where the cut occurs…
- By Cameron Awkward-RichI wake up & it breaks my heart. I draw the blinds & the thrill of rain breaks my heart. I go outside…
- By Kristi Stoutthere is a woman in love with my husband. she buried a lamb this morning i didn’t. ahead of myself. …
- By Ada LimónI pass the feeder and yell, Grackle party! And then an hour later I yell, Mourning dove afterparty! (I call the feeder the party and the seed on the ground the afterparty.) I am getting so good at watching that...
- By Tilsa OttaTranslated By Farid MatukTo voice something that doesn’t end in a smile is odd. The spirit circles the body, doctors can’t see…
- By Tilsa OttaPronunciar algo que no termine en una sonrisa es extraño. El alma circula por el cuerpo,los doctores…
- By Mike DoughtyHe was jailed for cruelty to insects, and his agent wasn’t answering the phone, so he stayed awake in the cell all night, pictures jumping around his head of the cops and the blowdryer they took as evidence. He used...