#1977 #AmericanWriters #LoveIsADogFromHell
waiting for death like a cat that will jump on the bed I am so very sorry for
At 3:30 a.m. my twelve hours were… I set the alarm so that I would b… “What happened, Hank? We thought… “I’m quitting.” “Quitting?” “Yes, you can’t blame a man for wa…
he was just a cat cross-eyed, dirty white with pale blue eyes
there he is: not too many hangovers not too many fights with women not too many flat tires never a thought of suicide
Mongolian coasts shining in light, listen to the pulse of the sun, the tiger is the same to all of us and high oh so high on the branch
I am in this low—slung sports car painted a deep, rich yellow driving under an Italian sun. I have a British accent. I’m wearing dark shades
the hearse comes through the room… the beheaded, the disappeared, the… mad. the flies are a glue of sticky pas… their wings will not
But then it began raining again. The Stone had me out on a thing called Sunday Collection, and if you’re thinking of church, forget it. You picked up a truck at West Garage and a clipbo...
a great white light dawns across t… continent as we fawn over our failed traditi… often kill to preserve them or sometimes kill just to kill.
it was up in San Francisco after my poetry reading. it had been a nice crowd I had gotten my money I had this place upstairs
listening to Bruckner on the radio wondering why I’m not half mad over the latest breakup with my latest girlfriend wondering why I’m not driving the…
one of the terrible things is really being in bed night after night with a woman you no longer
Each night as I got ready to go on in, Joyce had my clothing laid out on the bed. Everything was the most expensive money could buy. I never wore the same pair of pants, the same shirt,...
a woman told a man when he got off a plane that I was dead. a magazine printed the fact that I was dead
in the winter walking on my ceiling my eyes the size of street… I have 4 feet like a mouse but wash my own underwear—bearded and hungover and a hard-on and no lawy…