Stories

The Central was the historical bar in town, situated like a breach in the walls that surrounded the square along with an agonizing greengrocer’s...

Isn’t it great not being dead yet you’d say and giggle. Is it great being dead too? Lucky, Whitman calls it. When you were my age you’d been dead five...

after Titian Love expects her own radiance to last forever.            Her large soft body, doughy belly and arms no woman today would want,                                       but the face— supermodel...

Let them eat storms Let them eat fire Let them eat drones Let them eat lies Let them eat bump stocks Let them eat coal Let them eat bullets Let them...

I love to comb a poem the way girls do their dolls’ hair singing   as I brushed and braided mane and tail curried every inch   of the pony I owned only in words and...

  Some years ago, when I had braces and headgear, I’d pull my hair through the openings in the cap contraption so as not to flatten the curls. Hence...

Barbara Ungar’s fifth book, Save Our Ship, winner of the Richard Snyder Memorial Prize from Ashland Poetry Press, was named to Kirkus Reviews’ Best...

Some of my new neighbors are listening to Talking Heads. Who the hell is pumping up David Byrne & co. at ten in the...

As if it were an endless autumn silently one by one they leave and buds already appear on branches airy pollens are floating in flight but the invisible...

Born in Rome in 1976, since 2007 she has lived between Umbria and Tuscany.. She has published for poetry: Le regole del controdolore (Temperino...