after A.E. Stallings

That his fingernails are immaculate, shaped
into thin arches of moon. That he files them
in the locker room before games, between innings in the

— Sunday, October 13th, 1974 –Dodger Stadium, Los Angeles, CA

In the dugout, waiting to run.

The whole game memorizing the pale swirls in the concrete floor of the Dodgers’s visiting

Houston Astros: Chia-Jen Lo, P

Dang, it’s weird putting “Houston Astros” under “AL WEST.” That poor team. At least they got to face the Cubs all the time last year; now they have to play

For the last couple of years, we've asked some of our favorite writers and contributors and known baseball fans to "predict the season," a kind of Hobart version to an expert's panel of predictions

Chicago White Sox: Jared Mitchell, OF

Jared, who was drafted by the Twins out of high school and turned them down to play baseball and football at LSU, was a backup wide receiver on the

Richard Arndt was working grounds at the ballpark when he caught the great Hammerin’ Hank Aaron’s last home run, number 755. This was in Atlanta.

Right away he told the men sure, of course he’d

Baltimore Orioles: Dylan Bundy, P

Dylan takes his diet seriously. He ate grilled chicken, rice, and green beans every day of the offseason. The first purchase he made with his $4 million

For the last couple of years, we've asked some of our favorite writers and contributors and known baseball fans to "predict the season," a kind of Hobart version to an expert's panel of predictions

How're you gonna live, she said, if you don't immerse?

Barb Johnson worked as a carpenter in New Orleans for more than 20 years before entering the MFA program at the University of New Orleans. While in the writing program, she won a grant from the

Inside, in the unforeseen, where the sounds of dust susurrus, we glimpse rainbowed light above the shadows. Will we ever reach there, we ask?

Wonders I. Wonders we.

Will and I decided to make "Y" shaped slingshot frames and drape an earthworm between the two of them.

The twelve stories in Susan Steinberg’s stunning third book, Spectacle, limn the desperate, neon-lit reality we’re forced to confront when we wake up from the American dream. They make me want to

Maria say she gon' tell me the future. She say she know. Mama taught her, but Maria had that gift, not her mama. The real kind. She'd seen all kinds of things 'fore they happen, like her brother shot dead in that parking lot, she'd seen it all four days before it happened.

What you gon' tell me I don't already know? I say.

Just in time for the opening bell (or is it more approrpriately an opening toast) of AWP in Boston tomorrow, we present Daniel Torday's "A&W&P." We first ran this story before AWP last

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 doctor. “I don’t know what’s wrong.” The pitch of her voice

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.

A panel of grandfathers lived in the girl like a Greek chorus. One day she woke and they were building themselves bleachers. After that they didn’t do anything. Tired, they complained. They shouted

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 with a cloth napkin. 

"I know why you cry,” I say at the Cuban

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