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You can stand on the edge and tremble with fear or risk your life.

I want to sleep in a bed next to a man who won’t dream of me all night.

insomniacs gesturing in a cave of neon light the narrative of their lives

One day, we will all turn into choir girls—all soft and hollow inside.

God was surrounding the chair, leaves flourishing from a sickly tree.

My “lonelymaking.” Also known as my horrible secret, continent-wide.

Even this says nothing of your desire—to be put to use.

In the many pages of the book of love this is only one story.

Two surgeons vaulted over a counter to hold open my incisions.

It is the one day that is purely American. Yes, a day of celebration.

I repeated the name thoughtfully, then said no, I didn’t think I knew her.

We might have seen it coming, had we not had our eyes fixed on it.

Craig Bueltel

A boy knew he wouldn’t see his mother’s face as he rose from the mat.

Life is a dream, he thought. Something she knew and I didn’t.

All I could focus on was if he was going to ask me to date him.

An idea surfacing—a crack of orange teeth. As if a ceiling disappears.

The draft of ten handwritten pages would have to be cut back to five.

The sense all along has been that there’s some madness in her.

We put effort into making things that No Man would ever think of creating.

There is a pinhole of light through the fog. A skiff on a lake.

Tanya jokes that she comes to the East Coast now only for funerals.

Turns out my body’s a dollar sweet potato, her screen said.

I’m in a fight for my career and the SOB won’t be there for me.

We enjoyed the infidelity. A great deal more than they seemed to.

I am the king of doing wheelies on the Stingray bicycle of my mind.

Even our tenderest buds and shoots endure the late snow.

Chase Twichell

I drank every night until late and drew earth-shaking conclusions.

Today the game was to try to catch one of the cats in a pillowcase.