#1973 #AmericanWriters #AtTerrorStreetAndAgonyWay #BurningInWaterDrowningInFlame
there was a frozen tree that I wan… but the shells came down and in Vegas looking across at a g… at 3:30 in the morning, I died without nails, without a co…
ask the sidewalk painters of Paris ask the sunlight on a sleeping dog ask the 3 pigs ask the paperboy ask the music of Donizetti
you’ve got to fuck a great many wo… beautiful women and write a few decent love poems. and don’t worry about age and/or freshly-arrived talents.
I had worked my charms on her for a couple of nights in a bar— not that we were new lovers, I had loved her for 16 months but she didn’t want to come to my…
Born like this Into this As the chalk faces smile As Mrs. Death laughs As the elevators break
are more beautiful than movie stars and they lounge on the lawn sunbathing
when Whitman wrote, “I sing the b… I know what he meant I know what he wanted:
The next day we picked up some of her stuff at this motel. There was a little dark guy in there with a wart on the side of his nose. He looked dangerous. Hector was sitting on the edge ...
the history of melancholia includes all of us. me, I writhe in dirty sheets while staring at blue walls and nothing.
Making love in the sun, in the mor… in a hotel room above the alley where poor men poke for bottles; making love in the sun
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...
the wind blows hard to night and it’s a cold wind and I think about the boys on the row. hope some of them have a bottle
I used to hold my social security… up in the air, he told me, but I was so small they couldn’t see it,
in junior high school Big Max was a problem. we’d be sitting during lunch hour eating our peanut butter sandwiche… and potato chips.
I can’t have it and you can’t have it and we won’t get it so don’t bet on it