If I were a room,
I would be transparent.

If it hadn’t been for my day job, I never would have gone to Steve’s Shoes. I was a personal assistant to a famous actor’s wife, which... more

Just in time for the opening bell (or is it more approrpriately an opening toast) of AWP in Boston tomorrow, we present Daniel... more

There were wolves near there. Wolves killing sheep. Poetry is dead. He thought. He could lend a hand.

Kathryn was doing all she could to get her son to touch his food again. She wanted him to eat. “I don’t know what to do,” she said to the... more

Happy Birthday   

You push your bike
on the worn pathway
into the bushes.
You enter my apartment
with chocolate... more

A hand over your mouth. A hush in the darkness. It’s the girl, whose name reminds you of another, who you remember marrying in some uncertain future or almost-forgotten dream.

You wake up to the sound of someone smashing white rocks outside your window. Only it's not rocks. You're just in a city made entirely of bones.

The man woke up and walked to the bathroom. He relieved his bladder and looked at himself in the mirror. He looked at the clock. 6:25. He... more

I read for the same reason that I fish. So I can feel what I can’t see.

A panel of grandfathers lived in the girl like a Greek chorus. One day she woke and they were building themselves bleachers. After that... more

Self-portrait as fogged up car. / Self-portrait as Home Depot // parking lot at 3 AM, no cars, / no people. Self-portrait with // grocery cart with someone else’s / left behind list.

The Platonic Man cries whenever I cry. Tears will be streaming down my face and I’ll look up and he’ll be dabbing his eyes... more

She said, during the commercial break, that she was a fan of westerns. I said, I loved the train... more

We pull into the campground and it’s just like I imagined it would be: chaparral scrub receding to oaks and firs as we move up into... more

"Thought of you and our conversations this morning when I read David Shields' Riff column in the NYT Magazine.... more

Hello, readers. This is the first of two interviews with writer Ron Currie Jr. on the occasion of the publication... more

I can take just about anything now.

Like how I returned from Christmas vacation to an inch of melted snow and a gaping hole above... more

Looking for the right angle

He poo-poo’s my relationship to nature, even when I tell him about touching the dead... more

It’s the new plan, Shooter.  Poetry for broken systems.  Insurance rider attached. 

To London With Love

Artist: Wilhelm Blech
Album: Musicus Miscellanous; Christian Dean & Musica Immunda
Label:... more

Five years ago I took some pills hoping to lose the perpetual 10-15 pounds that I would always like to... more

Fishhooks the size of anchors have started falling from the sky. It’s happening two or three times a week...

At night the air waits for Cassidy the way it does for a fuse to free its load. Then the great burst air gets to be, the blues and pinks and... more

The first time I fingered a girl, I messed it up. Of course, I didn’t realize at the time. It happened on a Friday night, at a playground. There were four of us there. Two girls, two boys. It was a very open thing. The girl who I fingered said she’d let me try, and we sent our friends to the basketball court to wait for us. 

Guildenstern flips the coin and holds it out for Rosencrantz to see.

“Heads,” Rosencrantz says. “Again heads.” He turns around. “So... more