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Recent Fiction

My Broken Brain, by Angie Ellis

I keep a list of songs I know well, so that if I get dementia people can reach the real me hidden inside my broken brain.
Recent Poetry

Ode to a Bee on the Small of Your Back, by Partridge Boswell

Blind to what tickles the delta of nerves there / you rub a humming with the back of your hand
Recent CNF

Freddy Krueger is Not Real, by Dina Peone

I was under the covers in my sister’s bedroom, deep asleep, while flames spread from a nearby candle.
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Choose Me

Choose Me

by Erica Orloff
I read an interview with a Buddhist holy man in which he said a miscarriage is a sign that the soul of that baby-to-be had a change of heart, perhaps was not ready to be reborn.
At Least One Point

At Least One Point

Jim Tilley
My father never settled for clumsy solutions, / some leap of insight always required, / a transformation to an equivalent problem / easy to solve.
The Year Nobody Died

The Year Nobody Died

by David Jauss
It was March before anyone noticed. The first was Merlene Svensgard, whose husband Al had died on New Year’s Eve while he and Merlene were counting down the final seconds along with Dick Clark on TV.
Prophet of Furnaces and Dust

Prophet of Furnaces and Dust

by David Salner
After Vietnam, he came home to fight / with the dust, went wild with the injustice, / waged war with everyone and lost.
Secret Friends

Secret Friends

by Jessica Bell
I don’t know how to pray, / but I’ve seen them do it / on TV; kneeling by a bed / in nightgowns, hands woven / like secret friends.
Ink

Ink

by Erica Orloff
my grandmother has hate tattoos / carved into her arms / goose-stepping numbers marching / wrinkled, onion-paper flesh / human ash and cattle cars
The Ultimate

The Ultimate

by Robin Becker
I’m a line-sit for the Ultimate Roller Coaster. At first, I thought the job would be depressing, everyone standing in line waiting to ride-n-die, but what I do is altruistic.
Souls of Finland

Souls of Finland

by Günther Bedson
Like a tree your roots are gnarled and twisted / in the dampness of this earth / your yellow leaves swirling D-major triplets / dancing down to the square
The Burning Girl

The Burning Girl

by Davin Malasarn
She told him to lie on the floor. His father lit tall, yellow candles and placed them in cups of sand on the shrine. They covered him in a tablecloth that his aunt crocheted herself.
Fireside
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Winner of the Pulitzer Prize in Poetry

Winner of the Pulitzer Prize in General Nonfiction

Winner of NBCC Award in Fiction

Winner of NBCC Award in Poetry

Winner of NBCC Award in Nonfiction

Winner of NBCC Award in Memoir

Winner of the 2019 Story Prize

Winner of the National Book Award in Fiction

Winner of the Thurber Prize for American Humor

Winner of the National Book Award in Poetry