#1993 #AmericanWriters #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
One day I was at the bar between races and I saw this woman. God or somebody keeps creating women and tossing them out on the streets, and this one’s ass is too big and that one’s tits ...
see this poem? was written without drinking. don’t need to drink to write.
all of a sudden I’m a painter. a girl from Galveston gives me $50 for a painting of a man holding a candycane while floating in a darkened sky.
he packaged it up neatly in differ… sending the legs to an aunt in St.… the head to a scoutmaster in Brook… the belly to a cross-eyed butcher… the female organs were sent to a y…
in the afternoon they lean against one another and you can see how much they like the sun.
first of all, I had a hard time, a… locating the parking lot for the b… wasn’t off the main boulevard wher… the cars all driven by merciless k… were doing 55 mph in a 25 mph zone…
it is like this when you slip down, done like a wound-up victrola (you remember those?) and you go downtown
I got his ashes, she said, and I… out to sea and I scattered his ash… they didn’t even look like ashes and the urn was weighted with
The guide took us all over the building. There were so many of us that they had to break us up into groups. We used the elevator in shifts. We were shown the employee’s cafeteria, the b...
you’re a beast, she said your big white belly and those hairy feet. you never cut your nails and you have fat hands
I would, of course, prefer to be w… instead of with a photograph of an… to the sound of the anvil chorus a… girls kicking high, showing everyt… but I might as well be dead right…
washed—up, on shore, the old yello… out again I write from the bed as I did last year.
I didn’t contest the divorce, didn’t go to court. Joyce gave me the car. She didn’t drive. All I had lost was 3 or 4 million. But I still had the post office. “I saw you with that bitch...
self-congratulatory nonsense as th… famous gather to applaud their see… greatness you wonder where
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…