#1973 #AmericanWriters #AtTerrorStreetAndAgonyWay #BurningInWaterDrowningInFlame
the illusion is that you are simpl… reading this poem. the reality is that this is more than a poem.
once we were young at this machine. . . drinking
I have been hanging here headless for so long that the body has forgotten
in grievous deity my cat walks around he walks around and around with electric tail and
Cecelia sat and watched us drink. I could see that I repulsed her. I ate meat. I had no god. I liked to fuck. Nature didn’t interest me. I never voted. I liked wars. Outer space bored m...
I always wanted to ball Henry Miller, she said, but by the time I got there it was too late. damn it, I said, you girls
blue fish, the blue night, a blue… everything is blue. and my cats are blue: blue fur, bl… blue whiskers, blue eyes. my bed lamp shines
once bought a toy rabbit at a department store and now he sits and ponders me with pink sheer eyes: He wants golf balls and glass
for five years I have been looking across the way at the side of a red apartment hou… there must be people in there even love in there
being the German kid in the 20’s i… was difficult. there was much anti-German feeling… a carry-over from World War 1. gangs of kids chased me through th…
Sara was preparing the turkey dressing and I sat in the kitchen talking to her. We were both sipping white wine. The phone rang. I went and got it. It was Debra. “I just wanted to wish ...
welcome to my wormy hell. the music grinds off-key. fish eyes watch from the wall. this is where the last happy shot… fired.
she was sitting in the window of room 1010 at the Chelsea in New York, Janis Joplin’s old room. it was 104 degrees
little dark girl with kind eyes when it comes time to use the knife I won’t flinch and
during my worst times on the park benches in the jails or living with whores