#AmericanWriters
at the track today, Father’s Day, each paid admission was entitled to a wallet and each contained a
starving there, sitting around the… and at night walking the streets f… hours, the moonlight always seemed fake to me, maybe it was,
never even in calmer times have I ever dreamed of bicycling through that
when God created love he didn’t he… when God created dogs He didn’t h… when God created plants that was a… when God created hate we had a sta… when God created me He created me
I met a genius on the train today about 6 years old, he sat beside me and as the train
the critics now have me drinking champagne and driving a BMW and also married to a socialite from
if I suffer at this typewriter think how I’d feel among the lettuce— pickers of Salinas?
225 days under grass and you know more than I. they have long taken your blood, you are a dry stick in a basket. is this how it works?
the lady has me temporarily off th… and now the pecker stands up better. however, things change overnight— instead of listening to Shostakovi…
out of the arm of one love and into the arms of another I have been saved from dying on th… by a lady who smokes pot writes songs and stories
washed—up, on shore, the old yello… out again I write from the bed as I did last year.
at their best, there is gentleness… some understanding and, at times,… courage but all in all it is a mass, a glo… have too much.
we had goldfish and they circled a… in the bowl on the table near the… covering the picture window and my mother, always smiling, wanting… to be happy, told me, ‘be happy He…
I awaken about noon and go out to… in my old torn bathrobe. I’m hung over hair down in my eyes barefoot
she died of alcoholism wrapped in a blanket on a deck chair on an ocean steamer.