#1993 #AmericanWriters #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
these boys have got class they ought to make kings out of old men rolling cigarettes in rooms small enough
this one always arrives at the wrong time a basically good sort I suppose an honest man
cleaned my place the other day first time in ten years and found 100 rejected poems: fastened them all to a clipboard much bad reading.
got out, fellow said, “hey!” walke… me, we shook hands, he slipped me… tickets for free car washes, “find… told him, walked on through to wai… area with wife, we sat on outside…
listen, he said, you ever seen a b… bucket? no, I told him. well, what happens is that now and… will climb up on top of the others
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.
I sit here on the 2nd floor hunched over in yellow pajamas still pretending to be a writer.
horses running with her miles away laughing with a fool Bach and the hydrogen bomb
some people never go crazy. me, sometimes I’ll lie down behind… for 3 or 4 days. they’ll find me there. it’s Cherub, they’ll say, and
I forget the beginning time. 6 or 7 p.m. Something like that. All you did was sit with a handful of letters, take a streetmap and figure your run. It was easy. All the drivers took much...
up in northern California he stood in the pulpit and had been reading for some time he had been reading poems about nature and the goodness
I’m glad when they arrive and I’m glad when they leave I’m glad when I hear their heels approaching my door and I’m glad when those heels
Joyce found a job with the county, the county Police Department, of all things. I was living with a cop! But at least it was during the day, which gave me a little rest from those fondl...
little dark girl with kind eyes when it comes time to use the knife I won’t flinch and
we take what we can see— the engines driving us mad, lovers finally hating; this fish in the market staring upward into our minds;