#AmericanWriters
One day I was at the bar between races and I saw this woman. God or somebody keeps creating women and tossing them out on the streets, and this one’s ass is too big and that one’s tits ...
see this poem? was written without drinking. don’t need to drink to write.
a poem is a city filled with stree… filled with saints, heroes, beggar… filled with banality and booze, filled with rain and thunder and p… drought, a poem is a city at war,
I sit here on the 2nd floor hunched over in yellow pajamas still pretending to be a writer.
death wants more death, and its we… I remember my father’s garage, how… I would brush the corpses of flies from the windows they thought were… their sticky, ugly, vibrant bodies
I’m out of matches. the springs in my couch are broken. they stole my footlocker. they stole my oil painting of
In the betting line the other day man behind me asked, “are you Henry Chinaski?”
watch you walking with your machin… ah, you’re too stupid to be cut li… you’re too stupid to let anything… the girls won’t use their knives o… they don’t want to
out of the arm of one love and into the arms of another I have been saved from dying on th… by a lady who smokes pot writes songs and stories
I had begun to dislike my father. He was always angry about something. Wherever we went he got into arguments with people. But he didn’t appear to frighten most people; they often just ...
The first three or four days at Mears-Starbuck were identical. In fact, similarity was a very dependable thing at Mears-Starbuck. The caste system was an accepted fact. There wasn’t a s...
swans die in the Spring too and there it floated dead on a Sunday sideways circling in the current
I used to know a dutchman in a Ph… he’d take 3 raw eggs in his beer, 71, still working, strong,
light brown stare that dumb blank marvelous light brown stare I’ll take care of it.
in the men’s room at the track this boy of about 7 or 8 years old came out of a stall