#AmericanWriters
for five years I have been looking across the way at the side of a red apartment hou… there must be people in there even love in there
The ex-Japanese wrestler who was into real estate sold Lydia’s house. She had to move out. There was Lydia, Tonto, Lisa and the dog, Bugbutt. In Los Angeles most landlords hang out the ...
has been going on for some time. there is this young waitress where… at the racetrack. how are you doing today?” she asks… winning pretty good,” I reply.
near the corner table in the cafe middle-aged couple sit. they have finished their
I’m out of matches. the springs in my couch are broken. they stole my footlocker. they stole my oil painting of
the swans drown in bilge water, take down the signs, test the poisons, barricade the cow from the bull,
ah, Merryman, fighter on the docks, killed a man while they were unloa… bananas. mean the man he killed
I was always a natural slob I liked to lay upon the bed in undershirt (stained, of course) (and with cigarette holes)
what you see is what you see: madhouses are rarely on display. that we still walk about and scratch ourselves and light
we like to shower afterwards (I like the water hotter than she) and her face is always soft and pe… and she’ll wash me first spread the soap over my balls
I don’t beat the walls with my fis… I just sit but it rushes in a tide of it. the woman in the court behind me h…
sometimes after you get your ass kicked real good by the forces you often wish you were a crane standing on one leg in blue water
That evening I started drinking. It wasn’t going to be easy without Katherine. I found some things she had left behind—earrings, a bracelet. I’ve got to get back to the typewriter, I th...
One Sunday Jimmy talked me into going to the beach with him. He wanted to go swimming. I didn’t want to he seen wearing swimming trunks because my hack was covered with boils and scars....
225 days under grass and you know more than I. they have long taken your blood, you are a dry stick in a basket. is this how it works?