#AmericanWriters
no one is sorry I am leaving, not even I; but there should be a minstrel or at least a glass of wine. bothers the young most, I think:
here they come these guys grey truck radio playing they are in a hurry
I was always a natural slob I liked to lay upon the bed in undershirt (stained, of course) (and with cigarette holes)
dame some dogs who sleep at night must dream of bones and I remember your bones in flesh
16 and one-half inch neck 68 years old lifts weights body like a young
I think of automobiles parked in a parking lot when I think of myself dead I think of frying pans when I think of myself dead
I was back in L.A. about a week and a half. It was night. The phone rang. It was Cecelia, she was sobbing. “Hank, Bill is dead. You’re the first one I’ve called.” “I’m so glad you came ...
Tony phoned and told me that Jan had left him but that he was a… helped him he said to think about… like D. H. Lawrence pissed off with life in general bu…
you haven’t lived until you’ve been in a flophouse with nothing but one light bulb
One night I was assigned to the stool next to Butchner. He didn’t stick any mail. He just sat there. And talked. A young girl came in and sat down at the end of the aisle. I heard Butch...
your life is your life don’t let it be clubbed into dank… be on the watch. there are ways out. there is a light somewhere.
call it th e green house effect or… but it just doesn’t rain like it used to. particularly remember the rains of… depression era.
Graduation Day. We filed in with our caps and gowns to “Pomp and Circumstance.” I suppose that in our three years we must have learned something. Our ability to spell had probably impro...
he drank wine all night of the 28th, and he kept thinking of her: the way she walked and talked and… the way she told him things that s… but were not, and he knew the colo…
We continued drinking. Cecelia had just one more and stopped. “I want to go out and look at the moon and stars,” she said. “It’s so beautiful out!” She went outside by the swimming pool...