#AmericanWriters
Lila Jane was a girl my age who lived next door. I still wasn’t allowed to play with the children in the neighborhood, but sitting in the bedroom often got dull. I would go out and walk...
if I suffer at this typewriter think how I’d feel among the lettuce— pickers of Salinas?
On the elevator up, I was the only white man there. It seemed strange. They talked about the riots, not looking at me. “Jesus,” said a coal black guy, "it’s really something. These guys...
It’s never quite right, he said, t… the way the music sounds, the way… written. It’s never quite right, he said, a… taught, all the loves we chase, al…
crud, he said, hauling it out of the water, what is it? a Hollow-Back June Whale, I said… no, said a guy standing by us on t…
her shoes themselves would light my room like many candles. she walks like all things shining on glass,
the dead dogs of nowhere bark as you approach another traffic accident. cars one standing on its
you go for these wenches, she said… you go for these whores, I’ll bore you. I don’t want to be shit on anymore… I said,
I had been sleeping on a terrible mattress with the springs sticking into me for several years. That afternoon when I awakened I pulled the mattress off the bed, dragged it outside, and...
I don’t know how many bottles of b… I have consumed while waiting for… to get better. I don’t know how much wine and whi… and beer
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…
I don’t beat the walls with my fis… I just sit but it rushes in a tide of it. the woman in the court behind me h…
love, he said, gas kiss me off kiss my lips kiss my hair my fingers
I hear them outside: “does he always type this late?” “no, it’s very unusual.” “he shouldn’t type this
Markov claims I am trying to stab his soul but I’d prefer his wife. put my feet on the coffee table and he says,