#AmericanWriters
around 2 a.m. in my small room after turning off the poem machine for now
sway with me, everything sad— madmen in stone houses without doors, lepers steaming love and song frogs trying to figure
here they come these guys grey truck radio playing they are in a hurry
all right, while we are gently cel… and while crazy classical music le… my small radio, I light a fresh ci… and realize that I am still very m… the 21st century is almost upon me…
the swans drown in bilge water, take down the signs, test the poisons, barricade the cow from the bull,
with an Apple Macintosh you can’t run Radio Shack program… in its disc drive. nor can a Commodore 64 drive read a file
I didn’t have any friends at school, didn’t want any. I felt better being alone. I sat on a bench and watched the others play and they looked foolish to me. During lunch one day I was a...
luxury ocean liners crossing the water full of the indolent and rich passing from this place to that
the kid went back to New York Cit… he met in a kibbutz. he left his mother at the age of 32, a well-kept fellow, sense of h… wore the same pair of shorts
a woman, a tire that’s flat, a disease, a desire: fears in front of you, fears that hold so still
We got back to 1010. I had my check. I’d left word that we didn’t want to be disturbed. Tammie and I sat drinking. I’d read 5 or 6 love poems about her. “They knew who I was,” she said....
a great white light dawns across t… continent as we fawn over our failed traditi… often kill to preserve them or sometimes kill just to kill.
I go to pick her up. she’s on some errand. she always has errands many things to do. I have nothing to do.
all I’ve ever known are whores, ex… madwomen. I see men with quiet, gentle women—I see them in the sup… I see them walking down the street… I see them in their apartments: pe…
watch them push the crippled and t… in their wheelchairs on to the electric lift which carries them up into the lon… where each chair is locked down