#1993 #AmericanWriters #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
in the hospitals and jails it’s the worst in madhouses it’s the worst in penthouses
there are worse things than being alone but it often takes decades to realize this and most often
I even hear the mountains the way they laugh up and down their blue sides and down in the water the fish cry
I know that some night in some bedroom soon my fingers will rift
this guy he’s got a crazy eye and he’s brown a dark brown from the sun the Hollywood and Western sun
reached up into the top of the clo… and took out a pair of blue pan ti… and showed them to her and asked “are these yours?” and she looked and said,
The next time you listen to Borod… remember he was just a chemist who wrote music to relax; his house was jammed with peor e: students, artists, drunkards, bur…
It was another Sunday that we got into the Model-T in search of my Uncle John. “He has no ambition,” said my father. “I don’t see how he can hold his god-damned head up and look people ...
That night I took Tammie to the harness races. We went upstairs to the second deck and sat down. I brought her a program and she stared at it a while. (At the harness races, past perfor...
here I’ll be 55 in a week. what will I write about
Sam the whorehouse man has squeaky shoes and he walks up and down the court squeaking and talking to
another bed another woman more curtains another bathroom another kitchen
Lydia had two children; Tonto, a boy of 8, and Lisa, the little girl of 5 who had interrupted our first fuck. We were together at the table one night eating dinner. Things were going we...
this woman keeps phoning me even though I tell her I am livin… I love. I keep hearing noises in the envir… she phones,
Some say we should keep personal r… poem, stay abstract, and there is some r… but jezus; twelve poems gone and I don’t keep…