Alphabetical stories

After Our First Kiss, The Paranoia Sets In

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Your kiss has spread like a fever, persistent and catastrophic for an ill-prepared heart like mine.

After Prometheus

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His method is simple...

After Reading Signs in a Club with a Dress Code

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I like violence / because they refused to pay at attention to me / as a child.

After the Fall

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They were a family, now, these three: child, widow, widower.

After the Flood

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That TV you got me? Ruined. And the ionizer fan? Ruined too. All your clothes you left over here, all my work scrubs and weekend dresses too, soaked with that river stink water. I kept thinking bout all the dead creatures.

After the Hoopla

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It is imperfect,/ eroded by the optics// of light, space/ and orbital mechanics.

After the Night

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Rodrigue blues and Hunter reds will pleasure our eyes...

After the Poison

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I've measured out our time togethersealed it in airtight bottlesthe one labeled 1998 kept closelike smelling saltsOne whiff a camphor waking memaking me high on the idea of usputting blinders on your infidelitiesdouble vodkas and damaging wordsAnd when that isn't enoughI…

After the Shark

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each to his / secret dream of the thing

After the Storm

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I watch from the cabin window the death of the sun, hear the howl of the new-born storm.

After this last death,

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After this last death, I lose at musical chairs. Rough strangers shove me toward the carved door. Feeling fierce, I yell, “Don't push me!” House racked with noise, smells, rushing, I turn the…

After Tom Phillips

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but still whisper the brick / and mortar details in both ears / at once, twice.

After Watching Zardoz

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Infinite storage space for unreflected patterns.Pretty pictograms from the fields of time and motion.Uplifting monotones despatching Jupiters and Saturns.Remember? The second we crawled from out the ocean,vulgarians of the sunpoised against the tip of a cosmic…

After Work

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“I was thinking about the other night.” He said from the living room.      She could hear his work boots scrape and creak across the old wood floors, and the sound of his weight landing on the couch, then the snap of the lighter as he lit the pipe and…

After: An All American, Post 9-11 Love Poem

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After he got on one knee, and she said, I do. After they watched the televised bombs disappear the city. After everyone fell asleep. After shock and awe, him and her making love…

Afterglow

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The drone of radio seeps into the car’s back seat… I hear only bits and pieces of information –

Aftermath

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Oh sweet, sweet morning light

Aftermath

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They waited not a moment longer than was necessary But moved right in and Began their loathsome ch

Aftermath

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You better read the papers If you don’t understand Cause as of last night I’m a one-man band You’d better walk through water With your boots on fire Cause Baby I don’t think I can take this any higher You’d better find out what I dr

Afternoon Chores

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She is trying to quit—nasty habit this smoking. Still, this is the only time she lets herself smoke these days: Laundry day.

Afternoon In The Park

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He liked to say that he was taking a moral and spiritual inventory check. Well, he would like to say that if anybody asked what his problem was. He was a ticking time-bomb, as his grandfather liked to…

afternoons

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i think god composed afternoons with crayons

Afterwards

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It takes twelve years for the hot water to run out and your skin has not even begun to prune.

Afterworld

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We suffer// the one agony only- of having no longer/ any physical effect nor way to speak/ of what we watch to those we watch.

Again

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Well, it's midnight and here I am drinking alone at the Stick It Inn, watching the clock because that cute, brunette waitress with the home wrecker tits, Julie, is working again, thank ya, Jesus, and she just came over and murmured she'd be off at one and come over and…

Again

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Their footsteps stopped suddenly, leaving them staring at one another across the bleak expanse of playground at south Los Angeles' Gompers Middle School. His uniform's white polo shirt felt too restrictive as he watched her budding solar plexus rise and f

again that summer

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And there was Kathi R in the summer of 1969. She was from Wheaton. We had tons of unprotected sex that summer. She was short, almost no breasts, but man, she could reach down behind me somehow and grab my balls at precisely the right moment, and bam, ba

Again, the Spring

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Against Disorder

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It is true that the college dogs spread vermin, reeked and shat on the soccer field...

Against Poetry

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If you had a choice, be a poet or not, I’d suggest prose for the lines that you jot.