#1977 #AmericanWriters #LoveIsADogFromHell
the dead can sleep they don’t get up and rage they don’t have a wife. her white face like a flower in a closed
in San Francisco the landlady, 80… Victrola up the stairway and I pl… until they beat on the walls. there was a large bucket in the ce… filled with beer and winebottles;
all the women all their kisses the different ways they love and talk and need. their ears they all have
John F. Kennedy flower knocks upo… shot through the neck; the gladiolas gather by the dozens… India dripping into Ceylon;
listening to Wagner as outside in the dark the wind bl… trees wave and shake lights go off and on the walls creak and the… bed...
“...I’ve seen people in front of their typewriters in such a bind that it would blow their intestine… right out of their assholes if the… were trying to shit.”
takes lot of desperation dissatisfaction and
I was back in L.A. about a week and a half. It was night. The phone rang. It was Cecelia, she was sobbing. “Hank, Bill is dead. You’re the first one I’ve called.” “I’m so glad you came ...
I was casing next to G.G. early one morning. That’s what they called him: G.G. His actual name was George Greene. But for years he was simply called G.G. and after a while he looked lik...
you won’t see them often for wherever the crowd is they are not. those odd ones, not
all of a sudden I’m a painter. a girl from Galveston gives me $50 for a painting of a man holding a candycane while floating in a darkened sky.
he came to the door one night wet… terrorized white cross-eyed tailless cat took him in and fed him and he sta… grew to trust me until a friend dr…
When Jonstone saw me the next 5 a.m. he spun in his swivel and his face and his shirt were the same color. But he said nothing. I didn’t care. I had been up to 2 a.m. drinking and screw...
Just give me a little atomic bomb Not too mutch just a little Enough to kill a horse in the stre… But there aren’t any horses in the… Enough to knock the flowers from a…
Two nights later I went over to Tammie’s place on Rustic Court. I knocked. The lights weren’t on. It seemed empty. I looked in her mailbox. There were letters in there. I wrote a note, ...