#1993 #AmericanWriters #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
here I’ll be 55 in a week. what will I write about
he was just a cat cross-eyed, dirty white with pale blue eyes
I always wanted to ball Henry Miller, she said, but by the time I got there it was too late. damn it, I said, you girls
a symphony orchestra. there is a thunderstorm, they are playing a Wagner overture and the people leave their seats u… and run inside to the pavilion
I had this room in front on DeLon… and I used to sit for hours in the daytime looking out the front window.
A month went by. R.A. Dwight, the editor of Dogbite Press wrote and asked me to do a foreword to Keesing’s Selected Poems. Keesing, with the help of his death, was at last going to get ...
we were in bed and she started to fight: “you son of a bitch! you just wait… I’ll get you!” I began laughing:
of late I’ve had this thought that this country has gone backwards or 5 de cades
keep remembering the horses under the moon keep remembering feeding the horse… sugar white oblongs of sugar
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...
know. I know. they are limited, have different needs and concerns. but I watch and learn from them.
I see you drinking at a fountain w… blue hands, no, your hands are not… they are small, and the fountain i… where you wrote me that last lette… I answered and never heard from yo…
he got knifed in broad daylight, c… holding his hands over his gut, dr… on the pavement. nobody waiting in line left their… he made it to the Mission doorway,…
drive to the beach at night in the winter and sit and look at the burned-dow… wonder why they just let it sit th… in the water.
a very miraculous thing just happe… my beerbottle flipped over backwar… and landed on its bottom on the fl… and I have set it upon the table t… but the photos were not so lucky t…