#AmericanWriters
I made practice runs down to skid row to get ready for my future. I didn’t like what I saw down there. Those men and women had no special daring or brilliance. They wanted what everybod...
the motion of the human heart: strangled over Missouri; sheathed in hot wax in Boston; burned like a potato in Norfolk; lost in the Allegheny Mountains;
The baby was crawling, discovering the world. Marina slept in bed with us at night. There was Marina, Fay, the cat and myself. The cat slept on the bed too. Look here, I thought, I have...
maybe I’ll win the Irish Sweepsta… maybe I’ll go nuts maybe Harcourt Brace will call or maybe unemployment insurance or rich lesbian at the top of a hill.
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
this fear of being what they are: dead. at least they are not out on the s… are careful to stay indoors, those pasty mad who sit alone before the…
in the Valkerie Mountains among the strutting peacocks I found a flower as large as my head
horses running with her miles away laughing with a fool Bach and the hydrogen bomb
A couple of nights later Becker walked in. I guess my parents gave him my address or he located me through the college. I had my name and address listed with the employment division at ...
do not b other the beagle lying th… away from grass and flowers and pa… dreaming dogdreams, or perhaps dre… nothing, as men do awake; yes, leave him be, in that simple…
once starving in Philadelphia I had a small room it was evening going into night and I stood at my window on the 3r…
Dee Dee had to pick up her son at the airport. He was coming home from England for his vacation. He was 17, she told me, and his father was an ex-concert pianist. But he’d fallen for sp...
screen like a burglar to take your… the snake had crawled the hole, and she said, tell me about yourself.
in the hospitals and jails it’s the worst in madhouses it’s the worst in penthouses
I sit here on the 2nd floor hunched over in yellow pajamas still pretending to be a writer.