After The Funeral
Bloody Sunday
An old man in a rusty wheelchair
All the boys are howling to take the girls to bed
Do you loik poi?
A man working hot steel
Driving thirty years ago, when the roads were quiet and the cars were noisy
After, Tom and the boys at the gate
Blackberries, long banks of them, blackberries, blackberries
At other times the street is desperately dull
Coming in to Baltimore
an instinct in me, the rich man's cunning feel for ripeness
Fair Lady
He let tears fall and wandered off alone
Good summers do not last forever
Business Banking
Come on, come in, like a river flowing
Have you ever stopped to consider
An Existential Crisis in the Great Godfrey Maze
Best American Shirt Stories
Despite everything, morning comes
An old man, black face
FEATHER
Path
Cow Pancake
Gothic
and after his second bull was dead
A deer, trapped, the dogs loose
All dead, and none that mattered
Here, one can see Oliver Reed's testicles impaled
Holy Blood, Holy Grail
From the mists came sounds of moving
Hours are a small thing A lighthouse
Conversations with Carver
How much, how little, is -
A Portrait of the Artist as a Madman
Choo-Choo Smith and the Diesels
Do you loik poi?
I am decay
A story beginning, "It is ten o'clock in the morning ."
Driving West through Wales
Chicken Little For president.
And I will walk five hundred miles
Holding out for another ten-per-cent
Bethel is between the slagheap and the factory
Girls in Gangs
Among all the legs I knew
Sponge
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