Alphabetical stories

C O N F L A T E

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She jumped into the hole the other day. The hole that sucks little girls into the universe, and doesn't return them. I had to watch it. I had to watch her sitting on the dock. Lean over, and fall in. I couldn't have saved her. Nor God. Or Jesus. Not the bridge. …

C-ing History

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Conjure calamity and calamity comes.

C.S.I. #14

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I had dreams of being permeated with the heat of Caramelized sisters. A declawed cat kept creeping along my apartment walls.

Cabana

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Cabinet

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In the morning I listen through an ear-trumpet

Cabinet of Particulars

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incoming made of dust

Cabrito

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Mariposa, the skinny hound, crawls out from under the trailer

Cache

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Could I cache your kisses?

Cactus

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I counted telephone poles and the seconds between them. The old highway cut straight through the sand and it seemed the road would never end. No curves. No hills. Just poles.

Cactus Subconscious

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The voice in the sand: "If it has soul you must funk it."

Cadillacs, Candy Bars and Boogers

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I won't ever forget the image of my father, behind the wheel of the Cadillac he so loved. Even as a ten year old, and more as an adult, I could never figure out why he loved that car as much as he did. I must explain that he was really my step father,…

Caffeine-Fueled Revelation Machines

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So she leans over the patio table like that model in that magazine ad and then takes a sip of her blended coffee drink as if a director had said to pretend the straw is a penis. As if this director only just shouted, “And you're a dirty, dirty girl, and

Cahiers du Cinéma

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Hours later, we fell out of a helicopter like hunchbacked wingless birds.

Cairn

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Your cairns/ are litter in the streets

Caitlin in the Y2K Museum

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Two months after Peter moved out, it opened on the eastern-leaning boulevard, a stone's throw from the water. Caitlin heard about it from a friend at a bar three weeks after that, found that the concept wouldn't quietly settle in her mind, and made plans

Caitlin's Boots

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A horn honks, brakes squeal, Chloe’s screaming, pulling at her. She’s lying on the sidewalk. Her shin hurts. Her knee. Chloe kneels beside her. Ring of kids staring. I’m good, she says. I’m good.

Cake

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A little poem

Cake

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There I saw a man Lowering his head Close to the plate And just wolfing down His cake And that was all he ate It was like Solace He was enjoying it So much

Cakewalk

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She could estimate herself around 30, though this was debatable since she had stopped counting years ago. She looked like a person who would be very pretty if she wore make-up, but she didn’t and therefore wasn’t.

Caleb

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CALEBHe'd get up every day,don his clothes and tendto rote ablutions. He tried not to think too much.Because he knew what that would bring --the tethers he lost; failed causes,the last lover, who knew some things.Instead, he kept his eyes straight ahead,marked time,…

Calenture

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CALENTURE The horizon is marked with the still sculptures of dead gulls; A young man floats off slowly on the…

Caliban's Dream

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Today I’m feeling crabby and haggard and technology makes it easy to get to the point.

Call Me

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I'm living where I've always lived, in Georgia.

Call Me

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The woman took a small note card from her purse and wrote on it. She then stood, handed the card to the doctor, and said, “Call me.”

Call Me Naked

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[He] practiced aromatherapy and licentiousness, in no particular order.

Call Me Rust

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Call me anything but Ishmael. Call me Enamel.

Call Name Mary Magdalene

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His hands fumble over my curves like he’s petting his golden retriever. He wears in inexperience on his face like I wear my mascara.

Call the Cultbusters!

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My twin sister Ilene has recently taken up with a man named “Darrell,” who is a member of the Shriner's Fun Korps, a motorized paramilitary group.

Call to Action

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Everybody wake up and hold to those dreams you had of greatness and prosperity. Bring forth the hopes you had as a child of progressing to that ultimate goal of self-sufficiency. You are prepared for what lies ahead, the future belongs to us. Our finest…

Call to Arms

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I call upon all cashiers in dungarees... I call upon the baristas in rags... I call upon those whose sinister principles tax the weakness of their conscience... I call upon all those deracinated by dreaming big...