He smokes overhanded like a soldier. She notices that right away. He's hiding the glowing ember in the cup of his hand just like he's been taught to do. Her grandfather once told her that the
“Matsuzaka’s pitching motion is an elegant haiku, beauty captured in three parts separated by two pauses that he varies from pitch to pitch. He swings his hands over his head, pauses, lowers his
Night game
raining on and off
seats in right field
peanuts, nachos, hot dogs
souvenir cap
in fancy modern non-classic design
Strolling
to center field to peer over the
Mark took a pencil out of his royal blue gym bag. He hunted for a scrap of notebook paper, something to write on, but all he could find was a half-eaten tuna fish and potato chip sandwich, a
It's the middle of May, and the temperature has leveled off at a balmy 42 degrees at 7:30 p.m . This is why there were only about 15-20 people sitting in Section 12 -- or Section 14, or Section 22,
Founder of Future Tense Books, Kevin Sampsell has helped a multitude of writers get their start and has become an influential literary personality in his own right. Hobart caught up with Sampsell
Outside the apartment I'm leaving, in a spread out triangle of park benches on an oversized traffic island lined around the outside with waist-high shrubs, there's a vagrant man, grayed and out of
Eadweard Muybridge invented the photographic process called stop-motion photography, his most famous a series of stills illustrating a horse at full speed. My memories of our first house near
The man wiped his mouth with a silk handkerchief embroidered with his initials ($75.- a piece). He had just finished his meal of raw sea scallop carpaccio drizzled with white truffle oil and
That day, when the nurses hugged her and welcomed her to the hospice, it all came together. Silke belonged here. She excelled in dying.
She sat up in bed all day, her fingers folded on her
Sometimes We All Go Kaboom
I used to have these inclinations. I would sit down to write a story, and something would occur to me as right and proper for that story. And I would think
1. When I was sixteen I wrote a poem that started: As the years press down, I will remember you.
2. I have no idea who I was talking about when I wrote that.
3. Which means, I guess, that I
Carl Harlon had a singular, stunning thought as he balanced himself against the carnival’s bright orange plastic storm fence: she is breaking my heart. He watched as she made her way through the
Rueben, since he is on acid and can do things like that, brings Venus right out of the painting that hangs in the bathroom at the organic café. Venus steps out and steps back in, several times, her
First he was on top and then she was on top and then he bent her over a chair and then she sat on the chair and pulled his head down. Then he was on top again and she pressed her feet into his back
What follows is an interview with the author Kevin Brockmeier on the subject of white space. For more information on Kevin Brockmeier, who is, in this reader's opinion, one of the finest young
I should put you on the plane. The plane you’ll take to the bus you’ll take to the car you’ll drive home. I should put you on that plane.
Instead, I take you to the train. But the train does
I. The Way There
On the way there you notice the light again, the same light you’ve noticed ever since you got here, a light that seems stronger than light you’ve seen elsewhere, as though
Sometimes there is a freight train stopped on the tracks. The tracks split the town, dividing it into one half and the other. On the one side, there is school. On the other, there is the little
Thurleen’s feet hurt. And her head hurt from Parmalee’s algebra homework. Her eyes hurt because she didn’t have the money to replace her glasses. Her heart hurt because Roy never said the three
Dr. Nathaniel Underwood
President
Academy of Nineteenth Century Disease and Deviance (ANCDD)
131 Riverside Drive, Apt. 1B
New York, NY 10021
August 20, 2006
Dear Mr.
My current employer, The Wor(l)d Economist, sent me on assignment to interview Gandhi’s grandson, who was in exile on an unchartered island near Fiji. I was in a BarbaryTM skiff with a maniacal
1.
A cheap leather coat K’s father lent me when we were visiting and the weather turned cold. It had belonged to his brother, a cop, but had never been worn because the brother, as K’s father
There was a bump on his head, and that’s what made him crazy. That’s the story he tells whenever anyone asks about it, the Doctors, the Police, the Park People, the Guy Who Sort of Looked Like
You never know when you’ll turn the corner to find it staring you in the face. You might be on your way to dinner at the kosher restaurant at 9th and South when you’ll notice someone has painted a
