#1977 #AmericanWriters #LoveIsADogFromHell
a poem is a city filled with stree… filled with saints, heroes, beggar… filled with banality and booze, filled with rain and thunder and p… drought, a poem is a city at war,
Shirley came to town with a broken… and met the Chicano who smoked long slim cigars and they got a place together on Beacon street
they photograph you on your porch and on your couch and standing in the courtyard or leaning against your car these photographers
knew you were a bad-ass,” he said. you sat in the back of Art class a… you never said anything. then I saw you in that brutal figh… with the guy with the dirty yellow
Bruckner wasn’t bad even though he got down on his knees and proclaimed Wagner the master.
she was in her orange Volks waitin… as I walked up the street with 2 six packs and a pint of sco… and she jumped out and began grabbing the beerbottles…
you may not believe it but there are people who go through life with very little friction or
keep remembering the horses under the moon keep remembering feeding the horse… sugar white oblongs of sugar
by God, I don’t know what to do. they’re so nice to have around. they have a way of playing with the balls
she was sitting in the window of room 1010 at the Chelsea in New York, Janis Joplin’s old room. it was 104 degrees
my daughter is most glorious. we are eating a takeout snack in my car in Santa Monica.
the balance is preserved by the sn… the Santa Monica cliffs; the luck is in walking down Wester… and having the girls in a massage parlor holler at you, “Hello, Swe…
I went over the other day to pick up my daughter. her mother came out with workman’s overalls on. I gave her the child support money
It was another Sunday that we got into the Model-T in search of my Uncle John. “He has no ambition,” said my father. “I don’t see how he can hold his god-damned head up and look people ...
she writes: you’ll be moaning and groaning in your poems about how I fucked those 2 guys last week.