#AmericanWriters
That night I gave another bad reading. I didn’t care. They didn’t care. If John Cage could get one thousand dollars for eating an apple, I’d accept $500 plus air fare for being a lemon....
what is it about lobsters and crab… those white-pink shells that always make me hungry just looking at them there in the butcher’s display case
there’s Barry in his ripped walkin… he’s on Thorazine is 24 looks 38 lives with his mother in the same
I went to my place, started drinking. I snapped on the radio and found some classical music. I got my Coleman lantern out of the closet. I turned out the lights and sat playing with the...
over my radio now comes the sound of a truly mad org… can see some monk drunk in a cellar mind gone or found,
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.
To end up alone in a tomb of a room without cigarettes or wine— just a lightbulb
they talk down through the centuries to us, and this we need more and more, the statues and paintings in midnight age
The phone rang the next morning. Lydia had gone back to her place. It was Bobby, the kid who lived in the next block and worked in the porno bookstore. “Mindy’s down here. She wants you...
I have lain in bed all day but I have written one poem and I am up now looking out the window and like a novelist might say
The Stone’s favorite carrier was Matthew Battles. Battles never came in with a wrinkled shirt on. In fact, everything he wore was new, looked new. The shoes, the shirts, the pants, the ...
I read last Saturday in the redwoods outside of Santa Cruz and I was about 3/4's finished when I heard a long high scream and a quite attractive
the rag. she sat there, glooming. I couldn’t do anything with her. it was raining. she got up and left.
at the window I watch a man with a power mower the sounds of his doing race like flies and bees
we have everything and we have not… and some men do it in churches and some men do it by tearing butt… in half and some men do it in Palm Spring…