#AmericanWriters
A week later I was driving down Hollywood Boulevard with Lydia. A weekly entertainment newspaper published in California at that time had asked me to write an article on the life of the...
she came to my place drunk riding a deer up on the front porc… so many women want to save the wor… but can’t keep their own kitchens… but me...
they say that nothing is wasted: either that or it all is.
Katherine stayed 4 or 5 more days. We had reached the time of the month when it was risky for Katherine to fuck. I couldn’t stand rubbers. Katherine got some contraceptive foam. Meanwhi...
The toughest in the station. Apartment houses with boxes that had scrubbed-out names or no names at all, under tiny lightbulbs in dark halls. Old ladies standing in halls, up and down t...
what you see is what you see: madhouses are rarely on display. that we still walk about and scratch ourselves and light
of late I’ve had this thought that this country has gone backwards or 5 de cades
Van Gogh cut off his ear gave it to a prostitute who flung it away in extreme
Thanks for the good letter. I don’t think it hurts, sometimes, to remember where you came from. You know the places where I came from. Even the people who try to write about that or mak...
a woman, a tire that’s flat, a disease, a desire: fears in front of you, fears that hold so still
sitting on a 2nd-floor porch at 1:… while looking out over the city. could be worse. we needn’t accomplish great things…
I awakened to dryness and the fern… the potted plants yellow as corn; my woman was gone and the empty bottles like bled co… surrounded me with their uselessne…
I walked into the counselor’s office. It was Eddie Beaver sitting behind the desk. The clerks called him “Skinny Beaver.” He had a pointed head, pointed nose, pointed chin. He was all p...
all right, while we are gently cel… and while crazy classical music le… my small radio, I light a fresh ci… and realize that I am still very m… the 21st century is almost upon me…
my mother knocked on my rooming-ho… and came in looked in the dresser drawer: Henry you don’t have any clean stockings?