#1977 #AmericanWriters #LoveIsADogFromHell
my father was a practical man. he had an idea. you see, my son, he said, I can pay for this house in my lif… then it’s mine.
sit on this bench and look at the sea and the freaks and the lovers. need new eyes a new mouth new pillows, a new woman.
dying for a beer dying for and of life on a windy afternoon in Hollywood listening to symphony music from m… on the floor.
her shoes themselves would light my room like many candles. she walks like all things shining on glass,
I found that the only way I could keep from dizzy-spelling into my case was to get up and take a walk now and then. Fazzio, a supervisor who had the station at the time, saw me walking ...
the lair of the hunted is hidden in the last place you’d ever look and even if you find it you won’t believe
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, ...
don’t worry about rejections, pard… I’ve been rejected before. sometimes you make a mistake, taki… the wrong poem
my friend William is a fortunate m… he lacks the imagination to suffer he kept his first job his first wife can drive a car 50,000 miles
he’s 17 . mother, he said, how do I crack an egg? all right, she said to me, you don… sit there looking like that.
A day or so later I got a poem in the mail from Lydia. It was a long poem and it began: Come out, old troll, Come out of your dark hole, old troll, Come out into the sunlight with us an...
the schoolyard was a horror show:… freaks the beatings up against the wire f… our schoolmates watching glad that they were not the victim…
I forget the beginning time. 6 or 7 p.m. Something like that. All you did was sit with a handful of letters, take a streetmap and figure your run. It was easy. All the drivers took much...
my mother, father and I walked to the market once a week for our government relief food: cans of beans, cans of
drunk again at 3 a.m. at the end o… of wine, I have typed from a dozen… poesy an old man maddened for the flesh of young gi…