#1973 #AmericanWriters #BurningInWaterDrowningInFlame #CrucifixInADeathhand
I went upstairs to 409, had a stiff scotch and water, took some money out of the top drawer, went down the steps, got in my car and drove to the racetrack. I got there in time for the f...
a poem is a city filled with stree… filled with saints, heroes, beggar… filled with banality and booze, filled with rain and thunder and p… drought, a poem is a city at war,
Long walks at night— that’s what good for the soul: peeking into windows watching tired housewives trying to fight off
I got in the shower and burned my balls last Wednesday. met this painter called Spain, no, he was a cartoonist,
Every night was about the same. I’d drive along the coast looking for a place to have dinner. I wanted an expensive place that wasn’t too crowded. I developed a nose for those places. I...
That summer, July 1934, they gunned down John Dillinger outside the movie house in Chicago. He never had a chance. The Lady in Red had fingered him. More than a year earlier the banks h...
then there was the time in New Orleans I was living with a fat woman, Marie, in the French Quarter and I got very sick.
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
The next day I sat in the hall in my green tin chair, waiting to be called. Across from me sat a man who had something wrong with his nose. It was very red and very raw and very fat and...
by God, I don’t know what to do. they’re so nice to have around. they have a way of playing with the balls
This babe in the grandstand with dyed red hair kept leaning her breasts against me and talking about Gardena poker parlors
I suppose like any other boy I had one best friend in the neigh… his name was Eugene and he was big… than I was and one year older. Eugene used to whip me pretty good…
“she shoots up in the neck,” she t… me. I told her to stick it into my ass and she tried and said, “oh oh… and I said, “what the hell’s the m… she said, “nothing, this is New Y…
there are beasts in the salt shake… and airdromes in the coffeepot. my mother’s hand is in the bag dra… and from the backs of spoons come the cries of tiny tortured animals…
your life is your life don’t let it be clubbed into dank… be on the watch. there are ways out. there is a light somewhere.