#1993 #AmericanWriters #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
There was this place. It stretched over the sea, it was built over the sea. An old place, but with a touch of class. We got a room on the first floor. You could hear the ocean running d...
I walked off the job again and the police stopped me for running a red light at Serrano… my mind was rather gone and I stood in a patch of leaves
the weather is hot on the back of… which is down at Finkelstein’s who is gifted with 3 balls but no heart, but you’ve got to un… when the bull goes down
the 3 horse clipped the heels of the 7, they both went down and the 9 stumbled over them, jocks rolling, horses’ legs flung skyward.
Mindy stayed about a week. I introduced her to my friends. We went places. But nothing was resolved. I couldn’t climax. She didn’t seem to mind. It was strange. Around 10:45 PM one even...
at the hospital that I have been going to the nurses seem overweight. they are bulky in their
dogs and angels are not very different. I often go to this place to eat about 2:30 in the afternoon
is the slim tall ear-ringed bedroom damsel dressed in a long gown
I could see the road ahead of me. I was poor and I was going to stay poor. But I didn’t particularly want money. I didn’t know what I wanted. Yes, I did. I wanted someplace to hide out,...
the canaries were there, and the l… and the old woman with warts; and I was there, a child and I touched the piano keys as they talked—
a poem is a city filled with stree… filled with saints, heroes, beggar… filled with banality and booze, filled with rain and thunder and p… drought, a poem is a city at war,
she’s not for you, man, she’s not your type, she’s erased she’s been used she’s got all the wrong
I only met one student at City College that I liked, Robert Becker. He wanted to be a writer. “I’m going to learn everything there is to learn about writing. It will be like taking a ca...
at the window I watch a man with a power mower the sounds of his doing race like flies and bees
a great white light dawns across t… continent as we fawn over our failed traditi… often kill to preserve them or sometimes kill just to kill.