#1977 #AmericanWriters #LoveIsADogFromHell
I get too many phone calls. they seek the creature out. they shouldn’t.
terrible arguments. and, at last, lying peacefully on her large bed which is spread in red with cool patterns o…
live alone in a small room and read the newspapers and sleep alone in the dark dreaming of crowds.
In bed I had something in front o… “Sorry, baby,” I said. Then I ro… Then something awakened me. It wa… “Go, baby, go!” I told her. I arched my back now and then. Sh…
To give life you must take life, and as our grief falls flat and ho… upon the billion—blooded sea I pass upon serious inward—breakin… with white—legged, white—bellied r…
ask the sidewalk painters of Paris ask the sunlight on a sleeping dog ask the 3 pigs ask the paperboy ask the music of Donizetti
Bruckner wasn’t bad even though he got down on his knees and proclaimed Wagner the master.
I still get letters in the mail, m… men in tiny rooms with factory job… living with whores or no woman at… booze and madness. Most of their letters are on lined…
this man used to be an interesting writer, he was able to say brisk and refreshing things. at the time
Nothing matters but flopping on a mattress with cheap dreams and a beer as the leaves die and the horses d… and the landladies stare in the ha…
I know a woman who keeps buying puzzles Chinese puzzles blocks
they took my man off the street the other day he wore an L.A. Rams sweatshirt w… the sleeves cut off
I took Tammie. We got there a little early and went to a bar across the street. We got a table. “Now don’t drink too much, Hank. You know how you slur your words and miss your lines whe...
the best often die by their own ha… just to get away, and those left behind can never quite understand why anybody
“What’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?” We got into my car and she told me where she lived. We stopped for a couple of big steaks, vegetables, stuff for a salad, potatoes, b...