the best often die by their own ha
just to get away,
and those left behind
can never quite understand
why anybody

I laugh sometimes when I think ab
say
Céline at a typewriter
or Dostoevsky...
or Hamsun...

drunk again at 3 a.m. at the end o
of wine, I have typed from a dozen
poesy
an old man
maddened for the flesh of young gi

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

being the German kid in the 20’s i
was difficult.
there was much anti-German feeling
a carry-over from World War 1.
gangs of kids chased me through th

she was a short one
getting fat and she had once been
beautiful and
she drank the wine
she drank the wine in bed and

they found him walking along the f
all red in
front
he had taken a rusty tin can
and cut off his sexual

you may not believe it
but there are people
who go through life with
very little
friction or

here they come
these guys
grey truck
radio playing
they are in a hurry

I have lain in bed all day
but I have written one poem
and I am up now
looking out the window
and like a novelist might say