#1977 #AmericanWriters #LoveIsADogFromHell
We are like roses that have never… bloom when we should have bloomed… it is as if the sun has become disgusted with waiting
sitting on a 2nd-floor porch at 1:… while looking out over the city. could be worse. we needn’t accomplish great things…
I had to fly to Illinois to give a reading at the University. I hated readings, but they helped with the rent and maybe they helped sell books. They got me out of east Hollywood, they g...
drunk again at 3 a.m. at the end o… of wine, I have typed from a dozen… poesy an old man maddened for the flesh of young gi…
sick with the flu drinking beer my radio on loud enough to overcome the sounds of the
no one is sorry I am leaving, not even I; but there should be a minstrel or at least a glass of wine. bothers the young most, I think:
we fought for 17 days inside that… thrusting and counter-thrusting but finally she got away and I walked outside and spit
this is important enough: to get your feelings down, it is better than shaving or cooking beans with garlic. it is the little we can do
consistency is terrific: shark-mouth grubby interior with an almost perfect body, long blazing hair—
lonely as a dry and used orchard spread over the earth for use and surrender. shot down like an ex—pug selling dailies on the corner.
Later in the hospital they were dabbing at my knees with pieces of cotton that had been soaked in something. It burned. My elbows burned too. The doctor was bending over me with a nurse...
once we were young at this machine. . . drinking
I walked into the counselor’s office. It was Eddie Beaver sitting behind the desk. The clerks called him “Skinny Beaver.” He had a pointed head, pointed nose, pointed chin. He was all p...
over my radio now comes the sound of a truly mad org… can see some monk drunk in a cellar mind gone or found,
this one teaches that one lives with his mother and that one is supported by a red… with the brain of a gnat. this one takes speed and has been…