#1977 #AmericanWriters #LoveIsADogFromHell
drunk and writing poems at 3 a.m. what counts now is one more tight
are we going to the movies or not? she asked him. all right, he said, let’s go. I’m not going to put any pan ties… so you can finger-fuck me in the
I was coming home from classes down Westview hill. I never had any books to carry. I passed my exams by listening to the class lectures and by guessing at the answers. I never had to cr...
you with long hair, legs crossed h… the bar, you like a butcher knife… as the nightingale sings elsewhere… mingles with the roach’s hiss. know you as
know. I know. they are limited, have different needs and concerns. but I watch and learn from them.
suppose like others have come through fire and sword, love gone wrong, head-on crashes, drunk at sea, and I have listened to the simple…
here they come these guys grey truck radio playing they are in a hurry
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?
for five years I have been looking across the way at the side of a red apartment hou… there must be people in there even love in there
it is like this when you slip down, done like a wound-up victrola (you remember those?) and you go downtown
there are worse things than being alone but it often takes decades to realize this and most often
I was sitting in my shorts one afternoon a week later. There was a tender little knock on the door. “Just a moment,” I said. I put on a robe and opened the door. “We’re two girls from G...
she was a short one getting fat and she had once been beautiful and she drank the wine she drank the wine in bed and
and the sun wields mercy but like a jet torch carried to hi… and the jets whip across its sight and rockets leap like toads, and the boys get out the maps
I cross the room to the last wall the last window the last pink sun with its arms around the world