#1993 #AmericanWriters #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
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…
the goldfish sing all night with g… and the whores go down with the st… the whores go down with the stars I’m sorry, sir, we close at 4:30, besides yr mother’s neck is dirty,
my grandfather was a tall German with a strange smell on his breath… he stood very straight in front of his small house and his wife hated him
it sits outside my window now like and old woman going to market… it sits and watches me, it sweats nevously through wire and fog and dog—bark
R.O.T.C. (Reserve Officer Training Corps) was for the misfits. Like I said, it was either that or gym. I would have taken gym but I didn’t want people to sec the boils on my back. There...
I forget the beginning time. 6 or 7 p.m. Something like that. All you did was sit with a handful of letters, take a streetmap and figure your run. It was easy. All the drivers took much...
we fought for 17 days inside that… thrusting and counter-thrusting but finally she got away and I walked outside and spit
Some say we should keep personal r… poem, stay abstract, and there is some r… but jezus; twelve poems gone and I don’t keep…
the mockingbird had been following… all summer mocking mocking mocking teasing and cocksure; the cat crawled under rockers on p…
We came in low over Kansas City, the pilot said the temperature was 20 degrees, and there I was in my thin California sports coat and shirt, lightweight pants, summer stockings, and hol...
the history of melancholia includes all of us. me, I writhe in dirty sheets while staring at blue walls and nothing.
remember, he told me, that when I… years old my mother was always tak… to the doctor and saying, “he hasn… she was always asking me, “have yo… pooped?”
I always wanted to ball Henry Miller, she said, but by the time I got there it was too late. damn it, I said, you girls
To give life you must take life, and as our grief falls flat and ho… upon the billion—blooded sea I pass upon serious inward—breakin… with white—legged, white—bellied r…
Back in L.A., there was almost a week of peace. Then the phone rang. It was the owner of a Manhattan Beach nightclub, Marty Seavers. I had read there a couple of times before. The club ...