#1993 #AmericanWriters #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
One night my father took me on his milk route. There were no longer any horsedrawn wagons. The milk trucks now had engines. After loading up at the milk company we drove off on his rout...
some people never go crazy. me, sometimes I’ll lie down behind… for 3 or 4 days. they’ll find me there. it’s Cherub, they’ll say, and
neither does this mean the dead are at the door begging bread before
she came to my place drunk riding a deer up on the front porc… so many women want to save the wor… but can’t keep their own kitchens… but me...
these boys have got class they ought to make kings out of old men rolling cigarettes in rooms small enough
the boys come up the boys climb up the brown pole as the waterheater gurgles in Spanish
used to drive those trucks so hard and for so long that my right foot would go dead from pushing down on the accelerator.
you’re a beast, she said your big white belly and those hairy feet. you never cut your nails and you have fat hands
After dinner or lunch or whatever it was—with my crazy 12 hour night I was no longer sure what was what—I said, "Look, baby, I’m sorry, but don’t you realize that this job is driving me...
she’s young, she said, but look at me, I have pretty ankles, and look at my wrists, I have pret… wrists
first they used to, he told me, gun and bomb the elephants, you could hear their screams over… but you flew high to bomb the peop… you never saw it,
Our man was there to meet us, Gary Benson. He also wrote poetry and drove a cab. He was very fat but at least he didn’t look like a poet, he didn’t look North Beach or East Village or l...
if I suffer at this typewriter think how I’d feel among the lettuce-pickers of Salinas?
I laugh sometimes when I think ab… say Céline at a typewriter or Dostoevsky... or Hamsun...
So gramps wrote Joyce a big check and there we were. We rented a little house up on a hill, and then Joyce got this stupid moralistic thing. “We both ought to get jobs,” Joyce said, “to...