#1973 #AmericanWriters #AtTerrorStreetAndAgonyWay #BurningInWaterDrowningInFlame
he’s a runt he snarls and scratches chases cars groans in his sleep and has a perfect star above each…
I keep thinking it will be outside now waiting for me blue front bumper twisted
O lord, he said, Japanese women, real women, they have not forgotte… bowing and smiling closing the wounds men have made; but American women will kill you l…
drunk and writing poems at 3 a.m. what counts now is one more tight
I don’t beat the walls with my fis… I just sit but it rushes in a tide of it. the woman in the court behind me h…
kool enough to die but not kill I take my doctor’s green pill drink tea as the sharks swim through vases o…
if you can’t stand the heat, he sa… kitchen. you know who said that? Harry Truman. I’m not in the kitchen, I say, I’… oven.
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…
swans die in the Spring too and there it floated dead on a Sunday sideways circling in the current
I didn’t see Lydia for a couple of days, although I did manage to phone her 6 or 7 times during that period. Then the weekend arrived. Her ex-husband, Gerald, always took the children o...
more wasted days, gored days, evaporated days. more squandered days, days pissed away,
saw him sitting in a lobby chair in the Patrick Hotel dreaming of flying fish and he said “hello friend you’re looking good.
in the men’s room at the track this boy of about 7 or 8 years old came out of a stall
nobody goes downtown anymore the plants and trees have been cut… Pershing Square the grass is brown and the street preachers are not a…
But there were some good moments. My sometime friend from the neighborhood, Gene, who was a year older than I, had a buddy, Harry Gibson, who had had one professional fight (he’d lost)....