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

good weather
is like
good women—
it doesn’t always happen
and when it does

if I suffer at this
typewriter
think how I’d feel
among the lettuce—
pickers of Salinas?

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

I read a book about John Dos Pas
the book once radical—communist
John ended up in the Hollywood Hi
and reading the
Wall Street Journal

dumb,
Jesus Christ,
some people are so dumb
you can hear them
splashing around

often it is the only
thing
between you and
impossibility.
no drink,

once
we were young
at this
machine. . .
drinking

In the betting line the other
day
man behind me asked,
“are you Henry
Chinaski?”

death wants more death, and its we
I remember my father’s garage, how
I would brush the corpses of flies
from the windows they thought were
their sticky, ugly, vibrant bodies