#AmericanWriters
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.
dying has its rough edge. no escaping now. the warden has his eye on me. his bad eye. I’m doing hard time now.
Joyce found a job with the county, the county Police Department, of all things. I was living with a cop! But at least it was during the day, which gave me a little rest from those fondl...
little dark girl with kind eyes when it comes time to use the knife I won’t flinch and
as the orchid dies and the grass goes insane, let’s have one for the los… met an old man and a tired whore
dying for a beer dying for and of life on a windy afternoon in Hollywood listening to symphony music from m… on the floor.
“your poems about the girls will s… 50 years from now when the girls a… my editor phones me. dear editor: the girls appear to be gone
what’s bad about all this is watching people drinking coffee and waiting. I would
Christmas eve, alone, in a motel room down the coast near the Pacific— hear it?
saw him sitting in a lobby chair in the Patrick Hotel dreaming of flying fish and he said “hello friend you’re looking good.
I read that he lost a suitcase ful… train and that they never were rec… I can’t match the agony of this but the other night I wrote a 3—pa… upon this computer
stew at noon, my dear; and look: the ants, the sawdust, the mica plants, the shadows of banks like bad jokes; do you think we’ll hear
Each night as I got ready to go on in, Joyce had my clothing laid out on the bed. Everything was the most expensive money could buy. I never wore the same pair of pants, the same shirt,...
After English class one day Mrs. Curtis asked me to stay. She had great legs and a lisp and there was something about the legs and the lisp together that heated me up. She was about 32,...
believe in earning one’s own way but I also believe in the unexpect… gift and it is a wondrous thing when a woman who has read your wor…