#1993 #AmericanWriters #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
Slipping keenly into bright ashes, target of vanilla tears your sure body lit candles for men on dark nights, and now your night is darker
I saw Sara every three or four days, at her place or at mine. We slept together but there was no sex. We came close but we never quite got to it. Drayer Baba’s precepts held strong. We ...
sometimes you climb out of bed in… I’m not going to make it, but you… remembering all the times you’ve f… you walk to the bathroom, do your… in the mirror, oh my oh my oh my,…
at exactly 12:00 midnight 1973-74 Los Angeles it began to rain on the palm leaves outside my window
am sitting on a tin chair outside… death, on stinking wings, wafts th… halls forevermore. remember the hospital stenches fro… was a boy and when I was a man and…
often it is the only thing between you and impossibility. no drink,
Our man was there to meet us, Gary Benson. He also wrote poetry and drove a cab. He was very fat but at least he didn’t look like a poet, he didn’t look North Beach or East Village or l...
the dead dogs of nowhere bark as you approach another traffic accident. cars one standing on its
the pleasures of the damned are limited to brief moments of happiness: like the eyes in the look of a dog… like a square of wax,
A week later I was driving down Hollywood Boulevard with Lydia. A weekly entertainment newspaper published in California at that time had asked me to write an article on the life of the...
in the slow Mexican air I watched… and they cut off his ear, and his… no more terror than a rock. driving back the next day we stopp… and watched the golden red and blu…
they laugh continually even when a board falls down and destroys a face or distorts a
here they come these guys grey truck radio playing they are in a hurry
she writes continually like a long nozzle spraying the air,
After dinner we came back and we talked. She was a health food addict and didn’t eat meat except for chicken and fish. It certainly worked for her. “Hank,” she said, “tomorrow I’m going...