#1993 #AmericanWriters #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
Every route had its traps and only the regular carriers knew of them. Each day it was another god damned thing, and you were always ready for a rape, murder, dogs, or insanity of some s...
what you see is what you see: madhouses are rarely on display. that we still walk about and scratch ourselves and light
I got his ashes, she said, and I… out to sea and I scattered his ash… they didn’t even look like ashes and the urn was weighted with
Bobby and Valerie came by and I introduced everybody around. “Valerie and I are going to take a vacation and rent rooms by the seashore in Manhattan Beach,” said Bobby. “Why don’t you g...
dumb, Jesus Christ, some people are so dumb you can hear them splashing around
64 days and nights in that place, chemotherapy, antibiotics, blood running into the catheter. leukemia.
death wants more death, and its we… I remember my father’s garage, how… I would brush the corpses of flies from the windows they thought were… their sticky, ugly, vibrant bodies
I took it home, opened the beer, got into bed and began. It started well. It was about how Janko had lived in small rooms and starved while trying to find a job. He had trouble with the...
Luckily I had auto insurance that paid for a rental car. I drove Katherine to the racetrack in it. We sat in the sundeck at Hollywood Park near the stretch turn. Katherine said she didn...
in San Francisco the landlady, 80… Victrola up the stairway and I pl… until they beat on the walls. there was a large bucket in the ce… filled with beer and winebottles;
had it for a year, really put in lot of bedroom time, slept upright on two pillows to keep from coughing, all the blood drained from my head
luxury ocean liners crossing the water full of the indolent and rich passing from this place to that
you won’t see them often for wherever the crowd is they are not. those odd ones, not
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
almost dawn blackbirds on the telephone wire waiting as I eat yesterday’s forgotten sandwich