#AmericanWriters
I was surprised the next morning when April knocked on the door. April was the one on ATD who had been at Harry Ascot’s party and who had left with the speed freak. It was 11 am. April ...
they say that nothing is wasted: either that or it all is.
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...
I had to fly to Illinois to give a reading at the University. I hated readings, but they helped with the rent and maybe they helped sell books. They got me out of east Hollywood, they g...
One night my father took me on his milk route. There were no longer any horsedrawn wagons. The milk trucks now had engines. After loading up at the milk company we drove off on his rout...
She wasn’t really a cop, she was a clerk-cop. And she started coming in and telling me about a guy who wore a purple stick pin and was a “real gentleman.” “Well,” I’d ask, “how was old ...
I was glad I had money in the Sav… Friday afternoon hungover I didn’t have a job I was glad I had money in the Sav… I didn’t know how to play a guitar
I keep thinking it will be outside now waiting for me blue front bumper twisted
A sound awakened me. It was not quite daylight. Cecelia was moving around getting dressed. I looked at my watch. “I want to watch the sun come up. I love sunrises!” “I haven’t been able...
I took Tanya to Santa Anita. The current sensation was a 16 year old jockey still riding with his 5 pound bug advantage. He was from the east and was riding at Santa Anita for the first...
I can’t have it and you can’t have it and we won’t get it so don’t bet on it
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…
92 years old his tooth has been bothering him had to get it filled he lost his left eye 40 years ago
the motion of the human heart: strangled over Missouri; sheathed in hot wax in Boston; burned like a potato in Norfolk; lost in the Allegheny Mountains;
she writes: you’ll be moaning and groaning in your poems about how I fucked those 2 guys last week.