#1977 #AmericanWriters #LoveIsADogFromHell #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
my father was a practical man. he had an idea. you see, my son, he said, I can pay for this house in my lif… then it’s mine.
After English class one day Mrs. Curtis asked me to stay. She had great legs and a lisp and there was something about the legs and the lisp together that heated me up. She was about 32,...
majestic, magic infinite my little girl is sun on the carpet—
One night I was assigned to the stool next to Butchner. He didn’t stick any mail. He just sat there. And talked. A young girl came in and sat down at the end of the aisle. I heard Butch...
Then some men came around and ripped out every other water– fountain. “Hey, look, what the hell are they doing?” I asked. I was in the 3rd class flat section. I walked over to another c...
sitting in a dark bedroom with 3 j… female. brown paper bags filled with trash… everywhere. is one-thirty in the afternoon.
she was in her orange Volks waitin… as I walked up the street with 2 six packs and a pint of sco… and she jumped out and began grabbing the beerbottles…
I sit here on the 2nd floor hunched over in yellow pajamas still pretending to be a writer.
in junior high school Big Max was a problem. we’d be sitting during lunch hour eating our peanut butter sandwiche… and potato chips.
To give life you must take life, and as our grief falls flat and ho… upon the billion—blooded sea I pass upon serious inward—breakin… with white—legged, white—bellied r…
suppose like others have come through fire and sword, love gone wrong, head-on crashes, drunk at sea, and I have listened to the simple…
we have everything and we have not… and some men do it in churches and some men do it by tearing butt… in half and some men do it in Palm Spring…
After dinner or lunch or whatever it was—with my crazy 12 hour night I was no longer sure what was what—I said, "Look, baby, I’m sorry, but don’t you realize that this job is driving me...
starving there, sitting around the… and at night walking the streets f… hours, the moonlight always seemed fake to me, maybe it was,
dame some dogs who sleep at night must dream of bones and I remember your bones in flesh