#AmericanWriters
What I propose is not Marxism, which is not dead yet in the English department, Not maximalism, which was
We have too much exhibitionism and not enough voyeurism in poetry we have plenty of bass and not enough treble, more amber beer than the frat boys can drink…
When she says Margarita she means… When she says quixotic she means m… And when she says, “I’ll never sp… she means, “Put your arms around m… as I stand disconsolate at the win…
What is it about the Abyss that tempts the young poet to kiss the air and head for the nearest c… unreasonable attachment to the bli… of falling—what accounts for it? U…
No two are identical though they begin from the same point in time the same point in the dream when the radio shuts itself off in the middle of
“My propositions serve as elucidat… anyone who understands them eventu… nonsensical, when he has used them… up beyond them. (He must, so to sp… after he has climbed up it.)”—Ludw…
The longer I stare the lovelier you look in my eyes (so made such mirrors and spies) and I’m not don… yet as I enumerate the virtues of your smile, gracious in defeat,
If you could write down the words moving through a man’s mind as he masturbates you’d have a quick bonus bonk read, I used to think. But words were never adequate
Come on in and stay a while I’ll photograph you emerging from… like Frank O’Hara dating the muse… Talking about the big Pollock sho… than going to it on a dismal Satur…
Don’t walk away, Renee, I’m just getting warmed up your body is like a river and I’m going to swim across I want to explore the left
I could stare for hours at her, the woman stepping out of her bath, breasts bare, towel around her waist, before I knew she was you
Light rain is falling in Central… but not on Upper Fifth Avenue or… where sun and sky are yellow and b… Winds are gusting on Washington S… through the arches and on to LaGu…
The sky is crumbling into millions… the wind blows in my face so I duck into my favorite barber… and listen to Vivaldi and look in… reflecting the shopfront windows,…
It’s my birtday I’ve got an empty stomach and the desire to be lazy in the hammock and maybe go for a cool swim on a hot day with the trombone in Sinatra’s
He woke up in New York City on V… Speeding. The body in the booth n… Was gone. He had bought her a swe… Said her life wasn’t working he lo… You’re all bent out of shape, accu…