#1993 #AmericanWriters #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
I cross the room to the last wall the last window the last pink sun with its arms around the world
the kid went back to New York Cit… he met in a kibbutz. he left his mother at the age of 32, a well-kept fellow, sense of h… wore the same pair of shorts
there are worse things than being alone but it often takes decades to realize this and most often
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...
big black beard tells me that I don’t feel terror I look at him
the balance is preserved by the sn… the Santa Monica cliffs; the luck is in walking down Wester… and having the girls in a massage parlor holler at you, “Hello, Swe…
I know a woman who keeps buying puzzles Chinese puzzles blocks
he spoke to mice and sparrows and his hair was white at the age… his father beat him every day and… lit candles in the church. his grandmother came while the boy…
I got in the shower and burned my balls last Wednesday. met this painter called Spain, no, he was a cartoonist,
welcome to my wormy hell. the music grinds off-key. fish eyes watch from the wall. this is where the last happy shot… fired.
sometimes after you get your ass kicked real good by the forces you often wish you were a crane standing on one leg in blue water
don’t worry about rejections, pard… I’ve been rejected before. sometimes you make a mistake, taki… the wrong poem
sitting on a 2nd-floor porch at 1:… while looking out over the city. could be worse. we needn’t accomplish great things…
this time has finished me. I feel like the German troops whipped by snow and the communists walking bent with newspapers stuffed into
I wait on life like a pregnancy, p… the gut but all I hear now is the piano slamming its teeth throu… brain