#AmericanWriters
love, he said, gas kiss me off kiss my lips kiss my hair my fingers
the sun slides down through the sh… have a pair of black shoes and a p… brown shoes. can hardly remember the girls of m… there is numb blood pulsing throug…
she reads to me from the New York… which I don’t buy, don’t know how they get in here, but it’s something about the Mafia one of the heads of the Mafia
there he is: not too many hangovers not too many fights with women not too many flat tires never a thought of suicide
she came to my place drunk riding a deer up on the front porc… so many women want to save the wor… but can’t keep their own kitchens… but me...
call it th e green house effect or… but it just doesn’t rain like it used to. particularly remember the rains of… depression era.
they talk down through the centuries to us, and this we need more and more, the statues and paintings in midnight age
The ex-Japanese wrestler who was into real estate sold Lydia’s house. She had to move out. There was Lydia, Tonto, Lisa and the dog, Bugbutt. In Los Angeles most landlords hang out the ...
Back in L.A., there was almost a week of peace. Then the phone rang. It was the owner of a Manhattan Beach nightclub, Marty Seavers. I had read there a couple of times before. The club ...
After 3 years I made “regular.” That meant holiday pay (subs didn’t get paid for holidays) and a 40 hour week with 2 days off. The Stone was also forced to assign me as relief man to 5 ...
once bought a toy rabbit at a department store and now he sits and ponders me with pink sheer eyes: He wants golf balls and glass
they get up on their garage roof both of them 80 or 90 years old standing on the slant she wanting to fall really all the way
the essence of the belly like a white balloon sacked is disturbing like the running of feet on the stairs
“Get a seat for her, put her on the tab,” I told Marty. “All right. We’ll set her up. We’re S.R.O. We’ve had to turn away 150 and it’s 30 minutes before you go on.” “I want to introduce...
the illusion is that you are simpl… reading this poem. the reality is that this is more than a poem.