#AmericanWriters
It’s night
Just because people love your mind, doesn’t mean they have to have your body,
With the rain falling surgically against the roof, I ate a dish of ice cream that looked like Kafka’s hat.
Oh, pretty girl, you have trapped yourself in the wrong body.Twenty extra pounds hang like a lumpy tapestry on your perfect mammal na… Three months ago you were like a
Do you think of me as often as I think of you?
I feel horrible. She doesn’t love me and I wander around like a sewing machine that’s just finished sewing a turd to a garbage can lid.
This poem was found written on a p… Brautigan in a laundromat in San…
The Galilee Hitch-Hiker Part 1 Baudelaire was driving a Model A across Galilee.
A RETURN TO THE COVER OF THIS BOOK Dear Trout Fishing in America: I met your friend Fritz in Washin… to tell you that his case went to…
I go to bed in Los Angeles thinki… about you.
A girl in a green mini– skirt, not very pretty, walks down the street.
Forget love I want to die in your yellow hair
Hinged to forgetfulness like a door, she slowly closed out of sight, and she was the woman I loved,
I lift the toliet seat as if it were the nest of a bird and I see cat tracks all around the edge of the bowl.
THE PUDDING MASTER OF STANLEY BASIN Tree, snow and rock beginnings, th… lake promised us eternity, but the… thousands of silly minnows, swimmi…