#1977 #AmericanWriters #LoveIsADogFromHell
I took women either to the boxing matches or to the racetrack. That Thursday night I took Katherine to the boxing matches at the Olympic auditorium. She had never been to a live fight. ...
I got in the shower and burned my balls last Wednesday. met this painter called Spain, no, he was a cartoonist,
old grey-haired waitresses in cafes at night have given it up, and as I walk down sidewalks of light and look into windows
at one stage in my life I met a man who claimed to have visited Pound at St. Elizabeths. then I met a woman who not only claimed to have visited
In bed I had something in front o… “Sorry, baby,” I said. Then I ro… Then something awakened me. It wa… “Go, baby, go!” I told her. I arched my back now and then. Sh…
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
Four or five days passed. The phone rang. It was Tammie. “Listen, Hank. You know that little bridge you cross in your car when you drive to my mother’s place?” “Well, right by there the...
I phoned Joyce. “How’s it working with Purple Sti… “What did he do when you told him… “We were sitting across from each… “What happened?”
it beats love because there aren’t… wounds: in the morning she turns on the radio, Brahms or… or Stravinsky or Mozart. she boil… eggs counting the seconds out loud…
terror finally becomes almost bearable but never quite terror creeps like a cat crawls like a cat
Shirley came to town with a broken… and met the Chicano who smoked long slim cigars and they got a place together on Beacon street
There was death in that place on the hill. I knew it the first day I walked out the screen door and into the backyard. A zing– ing binging buzzing whining sound came right at me: 10,000...
great writer remains in bed shades down doesn’t want to see anyone doesn’t want to write anymore doesn’t want to try anymore;
she sits up there drinking wine while her husband is at work. she puts quite
Meanwhile, there was still Joyce, and her geraniums, and a couple of million if I could hang on. Joyce and the flies and the geraniums. I worked the night shift, 12 hours, and she pawed...