#1977 #AmericanWriters #LoveIsADogFromHell
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...
she’s young, she said, but look at me, I have pretty ankles, and look at my wrists, I have pret… wrists
The toughest in the station. Apartment houses with boxes that had scrubbed-out names or no names at all, under tiny lightbulbs in dark halls. Old ladies standing in halls, up and down t...
long ago he edited a little magazi… was up in San Francisco during the beat era during the reading-poetry-with-jaz… and I remember him because he neve…
To give life you must take life, and as our grief falls flat and ho… upon the billion—blooded sea I pass upon serious inward—breakin… with white—legged, white—bellied r…
think of de vils in hell and stare at a beautiful vase of flowers as the woman in my bedroom
this is my piano. the phone rings and people ask, what are you doing? how about getting drunk with us? and I say,
I took it home, opened the beer, got into bed and began. It started well. It was about how Janko had lived in small rooms and starved while trying to find a job. He had trouble with the...
he talked about Steinbeck and Tho… wrote like a cross between the two… and I lived in a hotel on Figuero… close to the bars and he lived further uptown in a s…
Joyce found a job with the county, the county Police Department, of all things. I was living with a cop! But at least it was during the day, which gave me a little rest from those fondl...
and so we suck on a cigar and a beer attempting to mend the love
92 years old his tooth has been bothering him had to get it filled he lost his left eye 40 years ago
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
I drank for the next week. I drank night and day and wrote 25 or 30 mournful poems about lost love. It was Friday night when the phone rang. It was Mercedes. “I got married,” she said, ...
we were in bed and she started to fight: “you son of a bitch! you just wait… I’ll get you!” I began laughing: