#AmericanWriters
by God, I don’t know what to do. they’re so nice to have around. they have a way of playing with the balls
That evening the phone rang. It was Mercedes. I had met her after giving a poetry reading at Venice Beach. She was about 28, fair body, pretty good legs, a blonde about 5~feet-5, a blue...
shot in the eye shot in the brain shot in the ass shot like a flower in the dance amazing how death wins hands down
she was in her orange Volks waitin… as I walked up the street with 2 six packs and a pint of sco… and she jumped out and began grabbing the beerbottles…
listen, he said, you ever seen a b… bucket? no, I told him. well, what happens is that now and… will climb up on top of the others
then there was the time in New Orleans I was living with a fat woman, Marie, in the French Quarter and I got very sick.
they say that nothing is wasted: either that or it all is.
my father was a practical man. he had an idea. you see, my son, he said, I can pay for this house in my lif… then it’s mine.
when I was in grammar school my parents were poor and in my lunch bag there was only a peanut butter sandwich.
there is enough treachery, hatred… human being to supply any given ar… and the best at murder are those w… and the best at hate are those who… and the best at war finally are th…
welcome to my wormy hell. the music grinds off-key. fish eyes watch from the wall. this is where the last happy shot… fired.
first they used to, he told me, gun and bomb the elephants, you could hear their screams over… but you flew high to bomb the peop… you never saw it,
I have been painting these last tw… it’s not much, you’re correct, but in this tournament great dream… history removes her dress and beco… and I have awakened in the morning
at one stage in my life I met a man who claimed to have visited Pound at St. Elizabeths. then I met a woman who not only claimed to have visited
you won’t see them often for wherever the crowd is they are not. those odd ones, not