#AmericanWriters
one of the terrible things is really being in bed night after night with a woman you no longer
she was hot, she was so hot I didn’t want anybody else to have… and if I didn’t get home on time she’d be gone, and I couldn’t bear… I’d go mad. . .
your life is your life don’t let it be clubbed into dank… be on the watch. there are ways out. there is a light somewhere.
she wrote me a letter from a small room near the Seine. she said she was going to dancing class, she got up, she said at 5 o’clock in the morning
the night I was going to die I was sweating on the bed and I could hear the crickets and there was a cat fight outside and I could feel my soul dropping…
One night I was coming around the corner after sneaking down to the cafeteria for a pack of smokes. And there was a face I knew. It was Tom Moto! The guy I had subbed with under The Sto...
To end up alone in a tomb of a room without cigarettes or wine— just a lightbulb
all the women all their kisses the different ways they love and talk and need. their ears they all have
places to hunt places to hide are getting harder to find, and pet canaries and goldfish too, did you… that?
I paid this one’s fare all the way… to San Francisco then flew up to meet her at her br… and I got drunk and talked all night about a redhe…
keep remembering the horses under the moon keep remembering feeding the horse… sugar white oblongs of sugar
the acute and terrible air hangs w… as summer birds mingle in the bran… and warble and mystify the clamor of the mind… an old parrot
little dark girl with kind eyes when it comes time to use the knife I won’t flinch and
over my radio now comes the sound of a truly mad org… can see some monk drunk in a cellar mind gone or found,
he carried a piece of carbon, a blade and a whip and at night he feared his head and covered it with blankets