#AmericanWriters
this fear of being what they are: dead. at least they are not out on the s… are careful to stay indoors, those pasty mad who sit alone before the…
at high noon at a small college near the beach sober the sweat running down my arms a spot of sweat on the table
invent yourself and then reinvent… don’t swim in the same slough. invent yourself and then reinvent… and stay out of the clutches of medioc…
here I am in the ground my mouth open and
Sara was preparing the turkey dressing and I sat in the kitchen talking to her. We were both sipping white wine. The phone rang. I went and got it. It was Debra. “I just wanted to wish ...
know. I know. they are limited, have different needs and concerns. but I watch and learn from them.
I hear them outside: “does he always type this late?” “no, it’s very unusual.” “he shouldn’t type this
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…
she bent over the side of the bed and opened the portfolio along the side of the wall. we were drinking. she said, “you promised me these
After dinner or lunch or whatever it was—with my crazy 12 hour night I was no longer sure what was what—I said, "Look, baby, I’m sorry, but don’t you realize that this job is driving me...
I went into the bends. I got drunker and stayed drunker than a shit skunk in Purgatory. I even had the butcher knife against my throat one night in the kitchen and then I thought, easy,...
I think of automobiles parked in a parking lot when I think of myself dead I think of frying pans when I think of myself dead
I see old people on pensions in th… supermarkets and they are thin and… proud and they are dying they are starving on their feet an… nothing. long ago, among other lie…
I have been hanging here headless for so long that the body has forgotten
god I got the sad blue blues, this woman sat there and she said are you really Charles Bukowski?