#1977 #AmericanWriters #LoveIsADogFromHell
take a writer away from his typewr… and all you have left is the sickness which started him
the rooms at the hospital went for 550 a day. that was for the room alone. the amazing thing, though, was tha… in some of the rooms
I met her somehow through correspo… and she began sending me very sexy… and this being mixed in with a min… confused me somewhat and I got in… through the mountains and valleys…
I was coming home from classes down Westview hill. I never had any books to carry. I passed my exams by listening to the class lectures and by guessing at the answers. I never had to cr...
they don’t make it the beautiful die in flame— suicide pills, rat poison, rope, w… ever... they rip their arms off,
Van Gogh cut off his ear gave it to a prostitute who flung it away in extreme
yes, they begin out in a willow, I… the starch mountains begin out in… and keep right on going without re… pumas and nectarines somehow these mountains are like
remember, he told me, that when I… years old my mother was always tak… to the doctor and saying, “he hasn… she was always asking me, “have yo… pooped?”
I can’t have it and you can’t have it and we won’t get it so don’t bet on it
the house next door makes me sad. both man and wife rise early and go to work. they arrive home in early evening.
there are these small cliffs above the sea and it is night, late night; I have been unable to sleep, and with my car above me
rose red sunlight; take it apart in the garage like a puzzle:
sun-stroked women without men on a Santa Monica Monday; the men are working or in jail or insane;
Shirley came to town with a broken… and met the Chicano who smoked long slim cigars and they got a place together on Beacon street
crud, he said, hauling it out of the water, what is it? a Hollow-Back June Whale, I said… no, said a guy standing by us on t…