#1973 #AmericanWriters #BurningInWaterDrowningInFlame #CrucifixInADeathhand
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...
One night my father took me on his milk route. There were no longer any horsedrawn wagons. The milk trucks now had engines. After loading up at the milk company we drove off on his rout...
I laugh sometimes when I think ab… say Céline at a typewriter or Dostoevsky... or Hamsun...
Born like this Into this As the chalk faces smile As Mrs. Death laughs As the elevators break
I was glad I had money in the Sav… Friday afternoon hungover I didn’t have a job I was glad I had money in the Sav… I didn’t know how to play a guitar
my goldfish stares with watery eye… into the hemisphere of my sorrow; upon the thinnest of threads we hang together, hang hang hang
This will refer to the letter addressed to you dated August 17, 1969, proposing your suspension without pay for three days or other disciplinary action, based on Charge No. 1 specified ...
Slipping keenly into bright ashes, target of vanilla tears your sure body lit candles for men on dark nights, and now your night is darker
But then it began raining again. The Stone had me out on a thing called Sunday Collection, and if you’re thinking of church, forget it. You picked up a truck at West Garage and a clipbo...
Either peace or happiness, let it enfold you when I was a young man I felt these things were dumb, unsophisticated.
big black beard tells me that I don’t feel terror I look at him
It was noon the next day when the phone rang. It was Lydia again. I heard a long insane wail like a wolverine shot in the arctic snow and left to bleed and die alone. . . . I slept most...
this Friday night the Mexican girls at the Catholic… look especially good their husbands are in the bars and the Mexican girls look young
To end up alone in a tomb of a room without cigarettes or wine— just a lightbulb
the history of melancholia includes all of us. me, I writhe in dirty sheets while staring at blue walls and nothing.