#1977 #AmericanWriters #LoveIsADogFromHell
my goldfish stares with watery eye… into the hemisphere of my sorrow; upon the thinnest of threads we hang together, hang hang hang
outside my window Sunday. I am eating a grapefruit. church is over at the… Orthodox to the west.
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 ...
the illusion is that you are simpl… reading this poem. the reality is that this is more than a poem.
I’m out of matches. the springs in my couch are broken. they stole my footlocker. they stole my oil painting of
the hearse comes through the room… the beheaded, the disappeared, the… mad. the flies are a glue of sticky pas… their wings will not
I kept the date in mind. It was never any problem creating a split with Lydia. I was naturally a loner, content just to live with a woman, eat with her, sleep with her, walk down the st...
they talk down through the centuries to us, and this we need more and more, the statues and paintings in midnight age
I don’t know how many bottles of b… I have consumed while waiting for… to get better. I don’t know how much wine and whi… and beer
think of de vils in hell and stare at a beautiful vase of flowers as the woman in my bedroom
Christmas eve, alone, in a motel room down the coast near the Pacific— hear it?
I was editing a little magazine at the time, The Laxative Approach. I had two co-editors and we felt that we were printing the best poets of our time. Also some of the other kind. One o...
The next night as they moved the group from the main build– ing to the training building, I stopped to talk to Gus the old newsboy. Gus had once been 3rd-ranked welterweight contender b...
I phoned Joyce. “How’s it working with Purple Sti… “What did he do when you told him… “We were sitting across from each… “What happened?”
they’re not going to let you sit at a front table at some cafe in Europe in the mid-afternoon sun. you do, somebody’s going to