Alphabetical stories

O Saddam!

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Saddam Hussein was a street-side seller of hot nuts near Faneuil Hall. He worked undercover there during the last Gulf War until just after it, as the US slagged the Iraqis. If only they'd known while they video-bombed his underground bunkers and chased his doubles that…

O Starving Poet

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A novel is an idea that has Survived many severe beatings While a poem is a homely thing that was Never even asked to the dance Art Speak, however, is the art of Systematically overstating and Re-inventing the Obvious to the point of Distr

O Where Did Our Funny Go?

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What a nation! First we lost our money Now we’ve lost our funny

O'Arlo's Journal: About Myself

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Every morning if I don't have to go potty....

O'erleaping Ambition

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“Listen, Mother – you’re my ticket out of this burg and I’m not about to cash it in!”


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She found herself suddenly awake at five. She laid there in their bed while downstairs the coffee maker waited for her to press its button so it might gurgle and hiss, filling the pot with wakefulness. The dishwasher waited too, waited for her to throw its latch…

Oaxaca Dreamland

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She thinks she trusts this man; she wants to trust him. His face reminds her of a man who once took care of her on an airplane when she was a kid traveling by herself.


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Patrick Savage, who has died aged 29, was a poker player fast on his way to becoming a cult figure in the music scene.


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He drifted for years: No forwarding. No phone.


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I won't fail at this like trying to fix a leaking sink without mud grease or washers tinier than Cheerios.

Obituary for a Poet Heretic

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He sat on a leather couch in the nude, blew smoke rings shaped like wild animals and picked verses out of the thick air.

Objects in a Field

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Cacophony of an engine-braking eighteen-wheeler/ scatters the crows to fences, trees and wires/ in a startling chant of caw, caw, caw.

Oblique in an Acute New Century

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It is a small life, circumscribed/ by debt and income, age and infirmity./ The Hidden Hand thrusts its middle finger/ high.


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It was cloudy, the way he liked it -- no baking in the sun. People passed occasionally. He sniffed at the joggers, “Health Nuts,” he dubbed them. He hadn’t exercised since his last high school gym class.

Observations from a Geneva Barstool

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“Hell, that must mean vodka attracts superluminal neutrinos! Give me another.” I and the barkeeper complied. Stolichnaya, what else, frozen.

observations on an autumn day

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macho bucks in velvet defy you driving down the lane


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Listen to me, at the end of all things, and I will tell you her story.

Obtaining Sophia

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My accordion's name is Sophia and she is from Italy. She was born in fairytale fashion, the way my life in Madrid can sometimes be. A great and nurturing friend gathered money from many friends in our village, to buy me an accordion for my birthday. It was…

Occasional cloud

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And she tried to laugh, to justify her half evasion, to dismiss the memory of their vitriolic breakfast conversation.

Occasional sunshine

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‘Didn't you used to have a daughter?' The tense and phraseology jarred, but he was inarticulate not ignorant, awkward rather than unaware of how it sounded and she smiled at him.

Occupy This!

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OCD Man: a love story

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The mouth is peculiar and so are the shoes.


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For a few/ vivid weeks, deciduous shrubs and trees/ will seem to glow like flames and embers


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It's Halloween again, the season when my mother died.


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A young officer approached the lawn where Shane was picketing with friends. All from middle-class neighborhoods, none considered "troubled," they were beginning to learn that obeying the law wasn't always enough . . .

October Day Salute

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The duty of a student can be summed up in a sentence To benefit the race of man with thoughtful independence

October Days

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The first days of October are ordinary in the way that milk just hours away from spoiling is ordinary milk. You can baptise your cornflakes with it, but part of you knows the whole thing is just shy of almost right.

October is the month when your dog dies

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Sometimes I think there's an octopus in my stomach. In the mornings it stretches and droops its lazy head to one side — It suctions it's tentacles to the walls of my belly and pulls them together forcing me To gag, and vomit what we didn't digest of the…