#Americans #XXCentury #1993 #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
murder the roaches spit out paper clips and the helicopter circles and cir… smelling for blood
my mother, father and I walked to the market once a week for our government relief food: cans of beans, cans of
this fear of being what they are: dead. at least they are not out on the s… are careful to stay indoors, those pasty mad who sit alone before the…
the branches break, the birds fall… the whores stand straight, the bombs stack, evening, morning, night, peanutbutter,
I get many phonecalls now. They are all alike. “are you Charles Bukowski, the writer?” “yes,” I tell them.
“what?” they say, “you got a computer?” it’s like I have sold out to the enemy. I had no idea so many
and so we suck on a cigar and a beer attempting to mend the love
beheaded in the middle of the night scratching my sides I am covered with bites kick my white legs out of the shee…
John F. Kennedy flower knocks upo… shot through the neck; the gladiolas gather by the dozens… India dripping into Ceylon;
This babe in the grandstand with dyed red hair kept leaning her breasts against me and talking about Gardena poker parlors
Sara was preparing the turkey dressing and I sat in the kitchen talking to her. We were both sipping white wine. The phone rang. I went and got it. It was Debra. “I just wanted to wish ...
she reads to me from the New York… which I don’t buy, don’t know how they get in here, but it’s something about the Mafia one of the heads of the Mafia
if I suffer at this typewriter think how I’d feel among the lettuce-pickers of Salinas?
I looked for a job all summer and couldn’t find one. Jimmy Hatcher caught on at an aircraft plant. Hitler was acting up in Europe and creating jobs for the unemployed. I had been with J...
I used to take the back off the telephone and stuff it with ra… and when somebody knocked I wouldn’t answer and if they pers… I’d tell them in terms vulgar
