#1993 #AmericanWriters #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
That evening the phone rang. It was Mercedes. I had met her after giving a poetry reading at Venice Beach. She was about 28, fair body, pretty good legs, a blonde about 5~feet-5, a blue...
the guy in the front court can’t speak English, he’s Greek, a rather stupid-looking and fairly ugly man. now my landlord does some painting…
the boys come up the boys climb up the brown pole as the waterheater gurgles in Spanish
I’m glad when they arrive and I’m glad when they leave I’m glad when I hear their heels approaching my door and I’m glad when those heels
what i liked about e.e. cummings was that he cut away from the holiness of the word and with charm
call it the greenhouse effect or w… but it just doesn’t rain like it u… I particularly remember the rains… depression era. there wasn’t any money but there w…
The next time you listen to Borod… remember he was just a chemist who wrote music to relax; his house was jammed with peor e: students, artists, drunkards, bur…
they don’t make it the beautiful die in flame— suicide pills, rat poison, rope, w… ever... they rip their arms off,
The first thing I remember is being under something. It was a table, I saw a table leg, I saw the legs of the people, and a portion of the tablecloth hanging down. It was dark under the...
I see old people on pensions in th… supermarkets and they are thin and… proud and they are dying they are starving on their feet an… nothing. long ago, among other lie…
Tammie came by that night. She appeared to be high on uppers. “I want some champagne,” she said. Then the phone rang. It was Lydia. “I just wondered how you were doing. ...” “You know D...
The voices of the people were the same, no matter where you carried the mail you heard the same things over and over again. “You’re late, aren’t you?” “Where’s the regular carrier?” “He...
One day, just like in grammar school, like with David, a boy attached himself to me. He was small and thin and had almost no hair on top of his head. The guys called him Baldy. His real...
the legs are gone and the hopes—th… and I haven’t shaved in sixteen da… but the mailman still makes his ro… water still comes out of the fauce… myself with glazed and milky eyes…
the soldiers march without guns the graves are empty peacocks glide in the rain down stairways march great men smi… there is food enough and rent enou…