#Americans #XXCentury #1977 #LoveIsADogFromHell
R.O.T.C. kept me away from sports while the other guys practiced every day. They made the school teams, won their letters and got the girls. My days were spent mostly marching around in...
looking out the window smoking rolled cigarettes drinking Sanka and watching the workers come on in
rose red sunlight; take it apart in the garage like a puzzle:
take a writer away from his typewr… and all you have left is the sickness which started him
around 2 a.m. in my small room after turning off the poem machine for now
she died of alcoholism wrapped in a blanket on a deck chair on an ocean steamer.
Of all the guys left in the neighborhood, Frank was the nicest. We got to be friends, we got to going around together, we didn’t need the other guys much. They had more or less kicked F...
you’ve got to fuck a great many wo… beautiful women and write a few decent love poems. and don’t worry about age and/or freshly-arrived talents.
if I suffer at this typewriter think how I’d feel among the lettuce— pickers of Salinas?
red face Texas and age he’s at an L.A. racetrack
when I look back now at the abuse I took from her I feel shame that I was so innocent,
drinking German beer and trying to come up with the immortal poem at 5 p.m. in the afternoon. but, ah, I’ve told the
That evening after dinner Joanna produced some mescaline. “You ever tried this stuff?” Joanna had some paints and brushes and paper spread on the table. Then I remembered she was an art...
up in northern California he stood in the pulpit and had been reading for some time he had been reading poems about nature and the goodness
Christmas eve, alone, in a motel room down the coast near the Pacific— hear it?