#AmericanWriters
the old folks play a game in the park overlooking the sea shoving markers across cement with wooden sticks. four play, two on each side
love, he said, gas kiss me off kiss my lips kiss my hair my fingers
I am hung by a nail the sun melts my heart I am cousin to the snake
this is my piano. the phone rings and people ask, what are you doing? how about getting drunk with us? and I say,
I heard it first while screwing a… who had the biggest box in Scranton. I listened to it again as I wrote… to my mother
in the earliest possible day in the blue-headed noon I will telegraph you a boney hand decorated with
I was hungover again, another heat spell was on—a week of 100 degree days. The drinking went on each night, and in the early mornings and days there was The Stone and the impossibility ...
what i liked about e.e. cummings was that he cut away from the holiness of the word and with charm
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 used to hold my social security… up in the air, he told me, but I was so small they couldn’t see it,
live alone in a small room and read the newspapers and sleep alone in the dark dreaming of crowds.
Back in L.A., there was almost a week of peace. Then the phone rang. It was the owner of a Manhattan Beach nightclub, Marty Seavers. I had read there a couple of times before. The club ...
if you can’t stand the heat, he sa… kitchen. you know who said that? Harry Truman. I’m not in the kitchen, I say, I’… oven.
you consult psychiatrists and phil… when things aren’t going well and whores when they are. the whores are there for young boy… men; to the young boys they say,
he carried a piece of carbon, a blade and a whip and at night he feared his head and covered it with blankets