#AmericanWriters
had lost the last race big somebody had stolen my coat could feel the flu coming on and my tires were low. I went in to get a
I didn’t do much the rest of the week. The Oaktree meet was on. I went to the track 2 or 3 times, broke even. I wrote a dirty story for a sex mag, wrote 10 or 12 poems, masturbated, and...
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…
Phillipe ’s is an old time cafe off Alameda street just a little north and east of the main post office. Phillipe’s opens at 5 a.m.
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
sleepy now at 4 a.m. hear the siren of a white ambulance,
my mother, father and I walked to the market once a week for our government relief food: cans of beans, cans of
of late I’ve had this thought that this country has gone backwards or 5 de cades
it’s strange when famous people di… whether they have fought the good… the bad one. it’s strange when famous people di… whether we like them or not
old grey-haired waitresses in cafes at night have given it up, and as I walk down sidewalks of light and look into windows
he spoke to mice and sparrows and his hair was white at the age… his father beat him every day and… lit candles in the church. his grandmother came while the boy…
I’m out of matches. the springs in my couch are broken. they stole my footlocker. they stole my oil painting of
I was casing next to G.G. early one morning. That’s what they called him: G.G. His actual name was George Greene. But for years he was simply called G.G. and after a while he looked lik...
I still get letters in the mail, m… men in tiny rooms with factory job… living with whores or no woman at… booze and madness. Most of their letters are on lined…
almost dawn blackbirds on the telephone wire waiting as I eat yesterday’s forgotten sandwich