#1993 #AmericanWriters #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
the history of melancholia includes all of us. me, I writhe in dirty sheets while staring at blue walls and nothing.
Some say we should keep personal r… poem, stay abstract, and there is some r… but jezus; twelve poems gone and I don’t keep…
he carried a piece of carbon, a blade and a whip and at night he feared his head and covered it with blankets
The next thing I knew, I had a young girl from Texas on my lap. I won’t go into details of how I met her. Anyway, there it was. She was 23. I was 36. She had long blonde hair and was go...
Mongolian coasts shining in light, listen to the pulse of the sun, the tiger is the same to all of us and high oh so high on the branch
Christmas eve, alone, in a motel room down the coast near the Pacific— hear it?
he was 65, his wife was 66, had Alzheimer’s disease. he had cancer of the mouth. there were
at one stage in my life I met a man who claimed to have visited Pound at St. Elizabeths. then I met a woman who not only claimed to have visited
then there was the time in New Orleans I was living with a fat woman, Marie, in the French Quarter and I got very sick.
I had to take a shit but instead I went into this shop to have a key made. the woman was dressed
it was Philly and the bartender sa… what and I said, gimme a draft, J… got to get the nerves straight, I’… going to look for a job. you, he s… a job?
I can see myself now after all these suicide days and n… being wheeled out of one of those… (of course, this is only if I get… by a subnormal and bored nurse
the rag. she sat there, glooming. I couldn’t do anything with her. it was raining. she got up and left.
To end up alone in a tomb of a room without cigarettes or wine— just a lightbulb
they photograph you on your porch and on your couch and standing in the courtyard or leaning against your car these photographers