#1993 #AmericanWriters #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
here I am in the ground my mouth open and
“she shoots up in the neck,” she t… me. I told her to stick it into my ass and she tried and said, “oh oh… and I said, “what the hell’s the m… she said, “nothing, this is New Y…
washed—up, on shore, the old yello… out again I write from the bed as I did last year.
Bruckner wasn’t bad even though he got down on his knees and proclaimed Wagner the master.
it beats love because there aren’t… wounds: in the morning she turns on the radio, Brahms or… or Stravinsky or Mozart. she boil… eggs counting the seconds out loud…
look there. the one you considered killing you… for. you saw her the other day getting out of her car
do not b other the beagle lying th… away from grass and flowers and pa… dreaming dogdreams, or perhaps dre… nothing, as men do awake; yes, leave him be, in that simple…
the guy in the front court can’t speak English, he’s Greek, a rather stupid-looking and fairly ugly man. now my landlord does some painting…
you gotta have wars suppose World War One was the bes… really, you know, both sides were… they really had something to fight… they really thought they had somet…
the wind blows hard to night and it’s a cold wind and I think about the boys on the row. hope some of them have a bottle
My mother went to her low-paying job each morning and my father, who didn’t have a job, left each morning too. Although most of the neighbors were unemployed he didn’t want them to thin...
64 days and nights in that place, chemotherapy, antibiotics, blood running into the catheter. leukemia.
you haven’t lived until you’ve been in a flophouse with nothing but one light bulb
There are sketches on the walls of… and outside a large green bus swer… insanity sprung from a waving line… says the radio, and Jane Austin,… “I am going to do her portrait on…
often it is the only thing between you and impossibility. no drink,