#AmericanWriters
My father had two brothers. The younger was named Ben and the older was named John. Both were alcoholics and ne’er-do-wells. My parents often spoke of them. “Neither of them amount to a...
you’ve got to fuck a great many wo… beautiful women and write a few decent love poems. and don’t worry about age and/or freshly-arrived talents.
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
a girlfriend came in built me a bed scrubbed and waxed the kitchen flo… scrubbed the walls vacuumed
he was easy, fat as a hummingbird and I had him blowing, I jabbed and crossed and took my t… everybody was waiting for the main… drinking beer, and I was thinking
saw him sitting in a lobby chair in the Patrick Hotel dreaming of flying fish and he said “hello friend you’re looking good.
my first and only wife painted and she talked to me about it: it’s all so painful
The toughest in the station. Apartment houses with boxes that had scrubbed-out names or no names at all, under tiny lightbulbs in dark halls. Old ladies standing in halls, up and down t...
R.O.T.C. (Reserve Officer Training Corps) was for the misfits. Like I said, it was either that or gym. I would have taken gym but I didn’t want people to sec the boils on my back. There...
I had just won $115 from the heads… was naked upon my bed listening to an opera by one of th… and had just gotten rid of a very… when there was a knock upon the wo…
Jimmy Hatcher worked part time in a grocery store. While none of us could get jobs he could always get one. He had his little movie star face and his mother had a great body. With his f...
he buys 5 cars a month, details th… them out, then resells them at a profit of one or… he has a nice Jewish wife and he t… bangs her until the walls shake.
we like to shower afterwards (I like the water hotter than she) and her face is always soft and pe… and she’ll wash me first spread the soap over my balls
A month went by. R.A. Dwight, the editor of Dogbite Press wrote and asked me to do a foreword to Keesing’s Selected Poems. Keesing, with the help of his death, was at last going to get ...
A sound awakened me. It was not quite daylight. Cecelia was moving around getting dressed. I looked at my watch. “I want to watch the sun come up. I love sunrises!” “I haven’t been able...