#AmericanWriters
once we were young at this machine. . . drinking
the flesh covers the bone and they put a mind in there and sometimes a soul, and the women break
Phillipe ’s is an old time cafe off Alameda street just a little north and east of the main post office. Phillipe’s opens at 5 a.m.
“Be quiet. Don’t wake Dancy. She’s my daughter. She’s 6 years I had a 6-pack of beer. Tammie put it in the refrigerator and came out with two bottles. “My daughter mustn’t see anything....
On Thanksgiving Iris prepared the turkey and put it in the oven. Bobby and Valerie came over for a few drinks but they didn’t stay. It was refreshing. Iris had on another dress, just as...
of late I’ve had this thought that this country has gone backwards or 5 de cades
we have everything and we have not… and some men do it in churches and some men do it by tearing butt… in half and some men do it in Palm Spring…
I came out of the bar and checked the message board. The plane was on time. Katherine was in the air and moving towards me. I sat down and waited. Across from me was a well-groomed woma...
they took my man off the street the other day he wore an L.A. Rams sweatshirt w… the sleeves cut off
a woman, a tire that’s flat, a disease, a desire: fears in front of you, fears that hold so still
I saw her when I was in the left… going east on Sunset. she was sitting with her legs crossed reading a paperback.
Shirley came to town with a broken… and met the Chicano who smoked long slim cigars and they got a place together on Beacon street
I had begun to dislike my father. He was always angry about something. Wherever we went he got into arguments with people. But he didn’t appear to frighten most people; they often just ...
That evening after dinner Joanna produced some mescaline. “You ever tried this stuff?” Joanna had some paints and brushes and paper spread on the table. Then I remembered she was an art...
like the fox run with the hunted and if I’m not the happiest man on earth