#1993 #AmericanWriters #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
the 3 horse clipped the heels of the 7, they both went down and the 9 stumbled over them, jocks rolling, horses’ legs flung skyward.
it is justified all dying is justified all killing all death all passing, nothing is in vain
in the Valkerie Mountains among the strutting peacocks I found a flower as large as my head
the cockroach crouched against the tile while I was pissing and as I turned my head he hauled his butt
let me speak as a friend although the centuries hang between us and neither you nor I can see the moon. be careful less the onion blind th…
drive to the beach at night in the winter and sit and look at the burned-dow… wonder why they just let it sit th… in the water.
The drilling and squeezing continued for weeks but there was little result. When one boil vanished another would appear. I often stood in front of the mirror alone, wondering how ugly a...
Somehow the money slipped away after that and soon I left the track and sat around in my apartment waiting for the 90 days’ leave to run out. My nerves were raw from the drinking and th...
To give life you must take life, and as our grief falls flat and ho… upon the billion—blooded sea I pass upon serious inward—breakin… with white—legged, white—bellied r…
Tammie came by that night. She appeared to be high on uppers. “I want some champagne,” she said. Then the phone rang. It was Lydia. “I just wondered how you were doing. ...” “You know D...
he buys 5 cars a month, details th… them out, then resells them at a profit of one or… he has a nice Jewish wife and he t… bangs her until the walls shake.
the old folks play a game in the park overlooking the sea shoving markers across cement with wooden sticks. four play, two on each side
think of the beds used again and again to fuck in to die in. in this land
I hear them outside: “does he always type this late?” “no, it’s very unusual.” “he shouldn’t type this
this man sometimes forgets who he is. sometimes he thinks he’s the Pope. other times he thinks he’s a