#1977 #AmericanWriters #LoveIsADogFromHell
I’m out of matches. the springs in my couch are broken. they stole my footlocker. they stole my oil painting of
I got in the shower and burned my balls last Wednesday. met this painter called Spain, no, he was a cartoonist,
I suppose so. I was living in an attic in Phila… it became very hot in the summer a… bars. I didn’t have any money and… I put a small ad in the paper and…
I drank for the next week. I drank night and day and wrote 25 or 30 mournful poems about lost love. It was Friday night when the phone rang. It was Mercedes. “I got married,” she said, ...
I forget the beginning time. 6 or 7 p.m. Something like that. All you did was sit with a handful of letters, take a streetmap and figure your run. It was easy. All the drivers took much...
do not b other the beagle lying th… away from grass and flowers and pa… dreaming dogdreams, or perhaps dre… nothing, as men do awake; yes, leave him be, in that simple…
I can see myself now after all these suicide days and n… being wheeled out of one of those… (of course, this is only if I get… by a subnormal and bored nurse
turmoil is the god madness is the god permanent living peace is permanent living death. agony can kill
they go on writing pumping out poems— young boys and college professors wives who drink wine all afternoon while their husbands work,
the higher you climb the greater the pressure. those who manage to endure learn
she undressed in front of me keeping her pussy to the front while I lay in bed with a bottle o… beer. where’d you get that wart on
what is it about lobsters and crab… those white-pink shells that always make me hungry just looking at them there in the butcher’s display case
starving there, sitting around the… and at night walking the streets f… hours, the moonlight always seemed fake to me, maybe it was,
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…
Bach, I said, he had 20 children. he played the horses during the da… he f—ed at night and drank in the mornings. he wrote music in between.