#1993 #AmericanWriters #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
this head like a saucer decorated with everything as lip to lip we hang in mechanical joy; my hands blaze with arias
Sam the whorehouse man has squeaky shoes and he walks up and down the court squeaking and talking to
listen, man, don’t tell me about t… sent, we didn’t receive them, we are very careful with manuscrip… we bake them burn them
I drank for the next week. I drank night and day and wrote 25 or 30 mournful poems about lost love. It was Friday night when the phone rang. It was Mercedes. “I got married,” she said, ...
I read last Saturday in the redwoods outside of Santa Cruz and I was about 3/4's finished when I heard a long high scream and a quite attractive
you came out, she said, and then you kicked this guy’s car and then you threw yourself into a… you crushed the whole bush,
There was a gang of us down there. 150 or 200. There were tedious papers to fill out. Then we all stood up and faced the flag. The guy who swore us in was the same guy who had sworn me ...
The subs themselves made Jonstone possible by obeying his impossible orders. I couldn’t see how a man of such obvious cruelty could be allowed to have his position. The regulars didn’t ...
there’s Barry in his ripped walkin… he’s on Thorazine is 24 looks 38 lives with his mother in the same
in the men’s room at the track this boy of about 7 or 8 years old came out of a stall
the German hotel was very strange… double doors to the rooms, very th… looked the park and the vasser ter… it was usually too late for breakf… would be everywhere changing sheet…
Information has been received in this office indicating that you were arrested by the Los Angeles Police Department on March 12, 1969, on a drunk charge. In this connection, your atten...
Bobby’s wife worked two nights a week and when she was gone he got on the telephone. I knew that on Tuesday and Thursday nights he would be lonely. It was Tuesday night when the phone r...
see this poem? was written without drinking. don’t need to drink to write.
Thanks for the good letter. I don’t think it hurts, sometimes, to remember where you came from. You know the places where I came from. Even the people who try to write about that or mak...