#1977 #AmericanWriters #LoveIsADogFromHell
It was Christmas season and I learned from the drunk up the hill, who did the trick every Christmas, that they would hire damned near anybody, and so I went and the next thing I knew I ...
terror finally becomes almost bearable but never quite terror creeps like a cat crawls like a cat
the history of melancholia includes all of us. me, I writhe in dirty sheets while staring at blue walls and nothing.
The next day I sat in the hall in my green tin chair, waiting to be called. Across from me sat a man who had something wrong with his nose. It was very red and very raw and very fat and...
well, first Mae West died and then George Raft, and Eddie G. Robinson’s been gone long time,
Markov claims I am trying to stab his soul but I’d prefer his wife. put my feet on the coffee table and he says,
I’m in bed. it’s morning and I hear: where are your socks? please get dressed!
in the hospitals and jails it’s the worst in madhouses it’s the worst in penthouses
Bruckner wasn’t bad even though he got down on his knees and proclaimed Wagner the master.
The phone rang the next morning. Lydia had gone back to her place. It was Bobby, the kid who lived in the next block and worked in the porno bookstore. “Mindy’s down here. She wants you...
she pulled her dress off over her head and I saw the panties indented somewhat into the crotch.
I am hung by a nail the sun melts my heart I am cousin to the snake
first time my father overheard me… this bit of music he asked me, “what is it?” “it’s called Love For Three Oran… I informed him.
We came in low over Kansas City, the pilot said the temperature was 20 degrees, and there I was in my thin California sports coat and shirt, lightweight pants, summer stockings, and hol...
you with long hair, legs crossed h… the bar, you like a butcher knife… as the nightingale sings elsewhere… mingles with the roach’s hiss. know you as