#AmericanWriters
I have seen an old man around town… carrying an enormous pack. he uses a walking stick and moves up and down the streets with this pack strapped to his bac…
That Tuesday night we were sitting at my place drinking; Tammie, me and her brother, Jay. The phone rang. It was Bobby. “Louie and his wife are down here and she’d like to meet you.” Lo...
After Debra left for work the next morning I bathed, then tried to watch t.v. I walked around naked and noticed that I could be seen from the street through the front window. So I had a...
On Thanksgiving Iris prepared the turkey and put it in the oven. Bobby and Valerie came over for a few drinks but they didn’t stay. It was refreshing. Iris had on another dress, just as...
I was always a natural slob I liked to lay upon the bed in undershirt (stained, of course) (and with cigarette holes)
call it th e green house effect or… but it just doesn’t rain like it used to. particularly remember the rains of… depression era.
The next time you listen to Borod… remember he was just a chemist who wrote music to relax; his house was jammed with peor e: students, artists, drunkards, bur…
Slipping keenly into bright ashes, target of vanilla tears your sure body lit candles for men on dark nights, and now your night is darker
“Get a seat for her, put her on the tab,” I told Marty. “All right. We’ll set her up. We’re S.R.O. We’ve had to turn away 150 and it’s 30 minutes before you go on.” “I want to introduce...
he talked about Steinbeck and Tho… wrote like a cross between the two… and I lived in a hotel on Figuero… close to the bars and he lived further uptown in a s…
Then some men came around and ripped out every other water– fountain. “Hey, look, what the hell are they doing?” I asked. I was in the 3rd class flat section. I walked over to another c...
the night I was going to die I was sweating on the bed and I could hear the crickets and there was a cat fight outside and I could feel my soul dropping…
old grey-haired waitresses in cafes at night have given it up, and as I walk down sidewalks of light and look into windows
more wasted days, gored days, evaporated days. more squandered days, days pissed away,
the boys come up the boys climb up the brown pole as the waterheater gurgles in Spanish