#1993 #AmericanWriters #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
another bed another woman more curtains another bathroom another kitchen
are we going to the movies or not? she asked him. all right, he said, let’s go. I’m not going to put any pan ties… so you can finger-fuck me in the
he walks up to my Volks after I have parked and rocks it back and forth grinning around his
there waas a rock-and-mud slide on the Pacific Coast Highway and… detour and they directed us up int… and traffic was slow and it was ho… we were lost.
they get up on their garage roof both of them 80 or 90 years old standing on the slant she wanting to fall really all the way
I phoned Joyce. “How’s it working with Purple Sti… “What did he do when you told him… “We were sitting across from each… “What happened?”
the hearse comes through the room… the beheaded, the disappeared, the… mad. the flies are a glue of sticky pas… their wings will not
Jack London drinking his life awa… writing of strange and heroic men. Eugene O’Neill drinking himself o… while writing his dark and poetic works.
To pacify Lydia I agreed to go to Muleshead, Utah. Her sister was camping in the mountains. The sisters actually owned much of the land. It had been inherited from their father. Glendol...
at exactly 12:00 midnight 1973-74 Los Angeles it began to rain on the palm leaves outside my window
around 2 a.m. in my small room after turning off the poem machine for now
neither does this mean the dead are at the door begging bread before
On the elevator up, I was the only white man there. It seemed strange. They talked about the riots, not looking at me. “Jesus,” said a coal black guy, "it’s really something. These guys...
I’ll settle for the 6 horse on a rainy afternoon a paper cup of coffee in my hand a little way to go,
It was noon the next day when the phone rang. It was Lydia again. I heard a long insane wail like a wolverine shot in the arctic snow and left to bleed and die alone. . . . I slept most...