#AmericanWriters
of course, I may die in the next t… and I’m ready for that but what I’m really worried about… that my editor—publisher might ret… even though he is ten years younge…
a poem is a city filled with stree… filled with saints, heroes, beggar… filled with banality and booze, filled with rain and thunder and p… drought, a poem is a city at war,
escape from the black widow spider is a miracle as great as art. what a web she can weave slowly drawing you to her she’ll embrace you
the swans drown in bilge water, take down the signs, test the poisons, barricade the cow from the bull,
Sara was preparing the turkey dressing and I sat in the kitchen talking to her. We were both sipping white wine. The phone rang. I went and got it. It was Debra. “I just wanted to wish ...
the strong men the muscle men there they sit down at the beach cocoa tans
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?”
was on the train to Del Mar and I… to go to the bar car. I had a beer… back and sat down. pardon me,” said the lady next to… sitting in my husband’s seat.”
A couple of nights later Becker walked in. I guess my parents gave him my address or he located me through the college. I had my name and address listed with the employment division at ...
the canaries were there, and the l… and the old woman with warts; and I was there, a child and I touched the piano keys as they talked—
The track had moved down the coast a hundred miles or so. I kept paying the rent on my apartment in town, got in my car and drove down. Once or twice a week I would drive back to the ap...
the cops want me to come down and… some guy who tried to rape me. I’ve lost the key to my car again;… the key to open the door but not t… to start it.
old Butch, they fixed him the girls don’t look like much anymore. when Big Sam moved out of the back
I stop my car at the signal I see her walking past the graveya… as she walks past the iron fence I can see through the iron fence and I see the headstones
murdered in the alleys of the land frost-bitten against flagpoles pawned by females educated in the dark for the dark vomiting into plugged toilets