#AmericanWriters
my moustache is pasted-on and my wig and my eyebrows and even my eyes... then something stuns me... the lampshades swing, I hear
this time has finished me. I feel like the German troops whipped by snow and the communists walking bent with newspapers stuffed into
the rag. she sat there, glooming. I couldn’t do anything with her. it was raining. she got up and left.
There was this place. It stretched over the sea, it was built over the sea. An old place, but with a touch of class. We got a room on the first floor. You could hear the ocean running d...
the girls are coming home in their… and I sit by the window and watch. there’s a girl in a red dress driving a white car
Four or five days passed. The phone rang. It was Tammie. “Listen, Hank. You know that little bridge you cross in your car when you drive to my mother’s place?” “Well, right by there the...
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…
the cops want me to come down and… some guy who tried to rape me. I’ve lost the key to my car again;… the key to open the door but not t… to start it.
We were in the air twenty minutes when she took a mirror out of her purse and began to make up her face, mostly the eyes. She worked at her eyes with a small brush, concentrating on the...
There was a gang of us down there. 150 or 200. There were tedious papers to fill out. Then we all stood up and faced the flag. The guy who swore us in was the same guy who had sworn me ...
dying has its rough edge. no escaping now. the warden has his eye on me. his bad eye. I’m doing hard time now.
the boy walks with his muddy feet… soul talking about recitals, virtuosi,… the lesser known novels of Dostoev… talking about how he corrected a w…
Dee Dee had to pick up her son at the airport. He was coming home from England for his vacation. He was 17, she told me, and his father was an ex-concert pianist. But he’d fallen for sp...
16 years old during the depression I’d come home drunk and all my clothing— shorts, shirts, stockings—
I awaken about noon and go out to… in my old torn bathrobe. I’m hung over hair down in my eyes barefoot