#1977 #AmericanWriters #LoveIsADogFromHell
A week later I was driving down Hollywood Boulevard with Lydia. A weekly entertainment newspaper published in California at that time had asked me to write an article on the life of the...
Lila Jane was a girl my age who lived next door. I still wasn’t allowed to play with the children in the neighborhood, but sitting in the bedroom often got dull. I would go out and walk...
more wasted days, gored days, evaporated days. more squandered days, days pissed away,
30 dogs, 20 men on 20 horses and o… and look here, they write, you are a dupe for the state, the… you are in the ego-dream, read your history, study the monet…
I was sitting in my shorts one afternoon a week later. There was a tender little knock on the door. “Just a moment,” I said. I put on a robe and opened the door. “We’re two girls from G...
he got knifed in broad daylight, c… holding his hands over his gut, dr… on the pavement. nobody waiting in line left their… he made it to the Mission doorway,…
beheaded in the middle of the night scratching my sides I am covered with bites kick my white legs out of the shee…
My mother went to her low-paying job each morning and my father, who didn’t have a job, left each morning too. Although most of the neighbors were unemployed he didn’t want them to thin...
we’d had any number of joints and… beer and I was on the bed stretche… and she said, “look, I’ve had 3 ab… in a row, real fast, and I’m sick… abortions, I don’t want you to sti…
in the men’s room at the track this boy of about 7 or 8 years old came out of a stall
It’s never quite right, he said, t… the way the music sounds, the way… written. It’s never quite right, he said, a… taught, all the loves we chase, al…
you sit on the couch with me tonight new woman. have you seen the
a woman, a tire that’s flat, a disease, a desire: fears in front of you, fears that hold so still
I can remember starving in a small room in a strange city shades pulled down, listening to classical music I was young I was so young it hur…
The flies are angry bits of life; why are they so angry? it seems they want more, it seems almost as if they are angry