#AmericanWriters
the girls were young and worked the streets but often couldn’t score, they
murder the roaches spit out paper clips and the helicopter circles and cir… smelling for blood
half-past nowhere alone in the crumbling tower of myself stumbling in this the
old grey-haired waitresses in cafes at night have given it up, and as I walk down sidewalks of light and look into windows
In the morning I heard her walkin… It was about 10:30 a.m. I was sic… She shook me. “Listen, I want you… “So what? I’ll screw her too.” “Yeah,” she laughed, “yeah.”
to be writing poetry at the age of… like a schoolboy, surely, I must be crazy; racetracks and booze and arguments with the landlord;
one of Lorca’s best lines is, “agony, always agony ...” think of this when you
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
I took my girlfriend to your last poetry reading, she said “yes”, “yes?” I asked. "she`s young and pretty",
cleaned my place the other day first time in ten years and found 100 rejected poems: fastened them all to a clipboard much bad reading.
here I am in the ground my mouth open and
I have lain in bed all day but I have written one poem and I am up now looking out the window and like a novelist might say
naked along the side of the house, 8 a.m., spreading sesame seed oil over my body, Jesus, have I come to this? I once battled in dark alleys for…
here I’m supposed to be a great po… and I’m sleepy in the afternoon here I am aware of death like a gi… charging at me and I’m sleepy in the afternoon
Upon awakening I got up and used Joanna’s toothbrush, drank a couple of glasses of water, washed my hands and face and got back into bed. Joanna turned around and my mouth found hers. M...