#1993 #AmericanWriters #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
this guy he’s got a crazy eye and he’s brown a dark brown from the sun the Hollywood and Western sun
My German doctor walked up. The one who had given me the blood tests. “Congratulations,” he said, shaking my hand, "it’s a girl. 9 pounds, 3 ounces.” “The mother will be all right. She ...
I have been looking at the same lampshade for 5 years and it has gathered
we tried to hide it in the house s… neighbors wouldn’t see. was difficult, sometimes we both h… be gone at once and when we return… there would be excreta and urine a…
3 small boys run toward me blowing whistles and they scream you’re under arrest! you’re drunk!
“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…
then there was the time in New Orleans I was living with a fat woman, Marie, in the French Quarter and I got very sick.
I think of automobiles parked in a parking lot when I think of myself dead I think of frying pans when I think of myself dead
once bought a toy rabbit at a department store and now he sits and ponders me with pink sheer eyes: He wants golf balls and glass
the boys come up the boys climb up the brown pole as the waterheater gurgles in Spanish
there are beasts in the salt shake… and airdromes in the coffeepot. my mother’s hand is in the bag dra… and from the backs of spoons come the cries of tiny tortured animals…
I didn’t do much the rest of the week. The Oaktree meet was on. I went to the track 2 or 3 times, broke even. I wrote a dirty story for a sex mag, wrote 10 or 12 poems, masturbated, and...
The ultra-violet ray machine clicked off. I had been treated on both sides. I took off the goggles and began to dress. Miss Ackerman walked in. “Not yet,” she said, “keep your clothes o...
We got back to 1010. I had my check. I’d left word that we didn’t want to be disturbed. Tammie and I sat drinking. I’d read 5 or 6 love poems about her. “They knew who I was,” she said....
I was sitting with an anarchist from Beverly Hills, Ben Solvnag, who was writing my biography when I heard her footsteps on the court walk. I knew the sound—they were always fast and fr...