#1993 #AmericanWriters #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
half drunk I left her place her warm blankets and I was hungover didn’t even know what town
take a writer away from his typewr… and all you have left is the sickness which started him
you go for these wenches, she said… you go for these whores, I’ll bore you. I don’t want to be shit on anymore… I said,
The toughest in the station. Apartment houses with boxes that had scrubbed-out names or no names at all, under tiny lightbulbs in dark halls. Old ladies standing in halls, up and down t...
Style is the answer to everything. A fresh way to approach a dull or… To do a dull thing with style is p… To do a dangerous thing with style… Bullfighting can be an art
There was this place. It stretched over the sea, it was built over the sea. An old place, but with a touch of class. We got a room on the first floor. You could hear the ocean running d...
John F. Kennedy flower knocks upo… shot through the neck; the gladiolas gather by the dozens… India dripping into Ceylon;
yesterday drunken Alice gave me a jar of fig jam and today she whistles
Within a day or two, about 1 pm in the afternoon there was a knock at my door. It was a painter, Monty Riff, or so he informed me. He also told me that I used to get drunk with him when...
I’ve always had trouble with money. this one place I worked everybody ate hot dogs and potato chips
I have a saying, “the tough ones a… back.” but Vera was kinder than most, and so I was surprised when she arrived that night
we are gathered here now to bury her in this poem. she did not marry an unemployed wi… beat her every
the strong men the muscle men there they sit down at the beach cocoa tans
the higher you climb the greater the pressure. those who manage to endure learn
Shirley came to town with a broken… and met the Chicano who smoked long slim cigars and they got a place together on Beacon street