#1993 #AmericanWriters #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
it sits outside my window now like and old woman going to market… it sits and watches me, it sweats nevously through wire and fog and dog—bark
wha’, what did you expect? a schoo… some more practical lover filling… I’m a fool and no gentleman: I wa… with Crane in pajamas, but suicide… there’s less and less to kill.
at the track today, Father’s Day, each paid admission was entitled to a wallet and each contained a
in the slow Mexican air I watched… and they cut off his ear, and his… no more terror than a rock. driving back the next day we stopp… and watched the golden red and blu…
places to hunt places to hide are getting harder to find, and pet canaries and goldfish too, did you… that?
oh, how worried they are about my soul! I get letters the phone rings... “are you going to be all right?”
to be writing poetry at the age of… like a schoolboy, surely, I must be crazy; racetracks and booze and arguments with the landlord;
some people never go crazy. me, sometimes I’ll lie down behind… for 3 or 4 days. they’ll find me there. it’s Cherub, they’ll say, and
neither does this mean the dead are at the door begging bread before
he comes out at 7:30 a.m. every da… with 3 peanut butter sandwiches, a… there’s one can of beer which he floats in the baitbucket. he fishes for hours with a small t…
you consult psychiatrists and phil… when things aren’t going well and whores when they are. the whores are there for young boy… men; to the young boys they say,
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…
Then the supervisor moved us to a new aisle. We had been there ten hours. “Before you begin,” the soup said, "I want to tell you some– thing. Each tray of this type of mail must be stuc...
I read that he lost a suitcase ful… train and that they never were rec… I can’t match the agony of this but the other night I wrote a 3—pa… upon this computer
That evening after dinner Joanna produced some mescaline. “You ever tried this stuff?” Joanna had some paints and brushes and paper spread on the table. Then I remembered she was an art...