#1977 #AmericanWriters #LoveIsADogFromHell
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...
self-congratulatory nonsense as th… famous gather to applaud their see… greatness you wonder where
they found him walking along the f… all red in front he had taken a rusty tin can and cut off his sexual
It was another Sunday that we got into the Model-T in search of my Uncle John. “He has no ambition,” said my father. “I don’t see how he can hold his god-damned head up and look people ...
luxury ocean liners crossing the water full of the indolent and rich passing from this place to that
the soldiers march without guns the graves are empty peacocks glide in the rain down stairways march great men smi… there is food enough and rent enou…
red-eyed and dizzy as I the bird came flying all the way from Egypt at 5 o’clock in the morning, and Maria almost stumbled on her s…
I didn’t have any friends at school, didn’t want any. I felt better being alone. I sat on a bench and watched the others play and they looked foolish to me. During lunch one day I was a...
I have a saying, “the tough ones a… back.” but Vera was kinder than most, and so I was surprised when she arrived that night
Bach, I said, he had 20 children. he played the horses during the da… he f—ed at night and drank in the mornings. he wrote music in between.
there was a frozen tree that I wan… but the shells came down and in Vegas looking across at a g… at 3:30 in the morning, I died without nails, without a co…
he sits all day at the bus stop at Sunset and Western his sleeping bag beside him. he’s dirty. nobody bothers him.
old grey-haired waitresses in cafes at night have given it up, and as I walk down sidewalks of light and look into windows
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…
the boy walks with his muddy feet… soul talking about recitals, virtuosi,… the lesser known novels of Dostoev… talking about how he corrected a w…