#1977 #AmericanWriters #LoveIsADogFromHell
majestic, majic infinite my little girl is sun on the carpet—
they’d come around and they’d ask “you finished your 2nd novel yet?” “no.”
I went with two ladies down to Venice to look for antique furniture. I parked in back of the store and went in with them.
he said, “I was working in Hollyw… working in Hollywood and he was the worst: he was too drunk to sta… end of the afternoon and so I had… into a taxi
We got back to 1010. I had my check. I’d left word that we didn’t want to be disturbed. Tammie and I sat drinking. I’d read 5 or 6 love poems about her. “They knew who I was,” she said....
she’s not for you, man, she’s not your type, she’s erased she’s been used she’s got all the wrong
as the spirit wanes the form
Our man was there to meet us, Gary Benson. He also wrote poetry and drove a cab. He was very fat but at least he didn’t look like a poet, he didn’t look North Beach or East Village or l...
was on the train to Del Mar and I… to go to the bar car. I had a beer… back and sat down. pardon me,” said the lady next to… sitting in my husband’s seat.”
Slipping keenly into bright ashes, target of vanilla tears your sure body lit candles for men on dark nights, and now your night is darker
Then Joyce wanted to go back to the city. For all the draw– backs, that little town, haircuts or not, beat city life. It was quiet. We had our own house. Joyce fed me well.) Plenty of m...
We are like roses that have never… bloom when we should have bloomed… it is as if the sun has become disgusted with waiting
it is the man you’ve never seen wh… keeps you going, the one who might arrive someday. he isn’t out on the streets or
I cross the room to the last wall the last window the last pink sun with its arms around the world
all I’ve ever known are whores, ex… madwomen. I see men with quiet, gentle women—I see them in the sup… I see them walking down the street… I see them in their apartments: pe…