#AmericanWriters
I don’t beat the walls with my fis… I just sit but it rushes in a tide of it. the woman in the court behind me h…
you with long hair, legs crossed h… the bar, you like a butcher knife… as the nightingale sings elsewhere… mingles with the roach’s hiss. know you as
there are beasts in the salt shake… and airdromes in the coffeepot. my mother’s hand is in the bag dra… and from the backs of spoons come the cries of tiny tortured animals…
One night I was coming around the corner after sneaking down to the cafeteria for a pack of smokes. And there was a face I knew. It was Tom Moto! The guy I had subbed with under The Sto...
I wait on life like a pregnancy, p… the gut but all I hear now is the piano slamming its teeth throu… brain
this woman keeps phoning me even though I tell her I am livin… I love. I keep hearing noises in the envir… she phones,
I met a genius on the train today about 6 years old, he sat beside me and as the train
not much chance, completely cut loose from purpose, he was a young man riding a bus
It was noon the next day when the phone rang. It was Lydia again. I heard a long insane wail like a wolverine shot in the arctic snow and left to bleed and die alone. . . . I slept most...
the best often die by their own ha… just to get away, and those left behind can never quite understand why anybody
Born like this Into this As the chalk faces smile As Mrs. Death laughs As the elevators break
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,…
it sits outside my window now like and old woman going to market… it sits and watches me, it sweats nevously through wire and fog and dog—bark
in the hospitals and jails it’s the worst in madhouses it’s the worst in penthouses
Mongolian coasts shining in light, listen to the pulse of the sun, the tiger is the same to all of us and high oh so high on the branch