Alphabetical stories


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hot, full focused, hypnotic


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Andy writes porn.

S.K.O.S.O. vs T.O.O.T.H. (With an update on Jinni of T.O.O.T.H.)

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"What have I done? What in God's name possessed me? Confessions of some college trouble in the 60's.


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people keep trying to get me/ "out of the house"./ they see fun in me, and cool in me,/ and want to spend time with me,/ and i am flattered most sincerely./


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He cut a hole in the sack

Sack of Meat

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The Nurse left work at five o’clock, walking down Dekalb Avenue toward Flatbush. He didn’t frequent the bar closest to the hospital, although he guessed other nurses and doctors from Brooklyn Hospital did. But he liked to pretend that he cared about h


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“Eat up, little brother” Jack called out from his end of the table. “The food will make your blood dance. It will be eager to mix with Helen’s.”

Sacre Something

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My first abroad journey completed. A picturesque way to end it all, really. I’m into that, I think to myself: making things play like movies or dramas or as beautifully as I can make them.


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"What the fuck are you looking at, Carl?" She snaps, turning her head toward me as the truck edges off the road and into a field of tobacco, into those broad green leaves of ancient sacristy and modern ablution. This is not a blissful kind of field. It is not full…


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They rise up, a sullen, sorrowful/ army of reproach, staring,// stone-faced but eyed with fire.


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The church building was a rustic structure made of rough-cut lumber that over-lapped in the clap-board fashion. The building itself was unpainted, but the boards were a weathered gray that only came from years of exposure to weather. The steeple towered o

Sacrifice on Maple Drive

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Sacrificial vic bleeds out . . .

Sad News

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They got out wearing their crisp brown Army jackets and khaki pants; she saw the cross on the lapel of the officer's shirt and just knew. These men brought sad news from faraway places.

Sad Robotics

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Robot telephones me today...

Sad Songs

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She was thrilled when she learned that her best friend was having an affair.

Sad without Tears

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Sometimes, to be sad, you don't need tears.

Sadie Hawkins Day

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It’s Leap Year and my school is observing Sadie Hawkins Day, which means the sixth-graders have a dance where the girls ask the boys to dance and the rest of us get to dress up like hillbillies.


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Safe does not ride horses at sunsetSnorkel in MolokaiRaft down a swollen river.It does not steal kisses in a darkened theaterTouch the inside of a thigh under a restaurant table.Safe does not declare war.It chooses dinner every night at sixMass every SundayConfession once a…


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She left knives and hot pots with handles akimbo. Like a guardian angel, he turned them in. Like an ungrateful Eve, she turned them back out.


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He is drilling the door of a safe to access the keys he locked inside.

Safety First

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I am not a gun, but I think I may have pulled a plastic movie trigger in some kind of real world way before, activated, pivotal scene one way or another before, this new frame came into its paranoid view.You? I am not a plastic water bottle,but I might have…

Saga For The Eyes

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Stars fat as the stars that Van Gogh painted on his easel in Arles, a ring of candles burning on the brim of his hat. Stars that fill the night with delirium.

Saga of the Sugar Ants

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They’re persistent, I’ll give them that. They keep coming. And coming and coming.

Sagacious Abridgment

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A cloudy autumn morning greeted Sean as he stepped from the trolley at Grand Central Station. On his way to the tracks he purchased a copy of The New York Times dated October 24, 1934.

Saguaro Poem

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I thought I would write a poemAbout a saguaro trying to please God The saguaro would spend a hundred yearsGrowing an arm and offering flowers in its fist —God barely notices. The saguaro flowers a crown for God.More arms. God then loses his patience…

said the fury to the shade

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let competitions in crime ensue let every madness bring let every sword be drawn let every furious rage flow free let anger know no shame let all blind rage inflame . . .

Sailor & I

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We were born here. At the top of the stairs underneath a painting of basset hounds playing croquet. And a hallway closet filled with lost someones. And the police, three times a week, singing nursery rhymes while walking up to our door.

Sailor's Visa

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He's got a rager for Casablanca, the old Bogart and Bergman classic. I can't snap him out of it.

Saint Basil's

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The last of the Kazan Tatar Khans. Each dome represents a severed head.

Saint Christopher Phone Booth Blues

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I've got to stop it. This can't go on. I've got stop yelling at people. Dog people. What's up with dogs of a sudden? Why does everyone suddenly seem to have a dog? I like dogs. Don't get me wrong. It's unleashed dogs that make me go ballistic. One reason is because …