#AmericanWriters
I can see myself now after all these suicide days and n… being wheeled out of one of those… (of course, this is only if I get… by a subnormal and bored nurse
the illusion is that you are simpl… reading this poem. the reality is that this is more than a poem.
each man must realize that it can all disappear very quickly: the cat, the woman, the job, the front tire,
I was always a natural slob I liked to lay upon the bed in undershirt (stained, of course) (and with cigarette holes)
the dream of a man is a whore with a gold tooth and a garter belt, perfumed with false eyebrows
225 days under grass and you know more than I. they have long taken your blood, you are a dry stick in a basket. is this how it works?
Bach, I said, he had 20 children. he played the horses during the da… he f—ed at night and drank in the mornings. he wrote music in between.
at the track today, Father’s Day, each paid admission was entitled to a wallet and each contained a
I been readin’ you for a long time… I just put Billy Boy to bed, he got 7 mean ticks from somewhere… I got 2, my husband, Benny, he got 3.
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…
“what?” they say, “you got a computer?” it’s like I have sold out to the enemy. I had no idea so many
I sit here on the 2nd floor hunched over in yellow pajamas still pretending to be a writer.
Sunday, I am eating a grapefruit, church is over at the… Orthadox to the west. she is dark
a woman, a tire that’s flat, a disease, a desire: fears in front of you, fears that hold so still
he sat naked and drunk in a room o… night, running the blade of the kn… under his fingernails, smiling, th… of all the letters he had received telling him that