#AmericanWriters #1977 #LoveIsADogFromHell
I was asked to give a reading at a famous nightclub, The Lancer, on Hollywood Boulevard. I agreed to read two nights. I was to follow a rock group, The Big Rape, each night. I was getti...
no one is sorry I am leaving, not even I; but there should be a minstrel or at least a glass of wine. bothers the young most, I think:
My father always ran the neighborhood kids away from our house. I was told not to play with them but I walked down the street and watched them anyhow. “Hey, Heinie!” they yelled, “Why d...
wha’, what did you expect? a schoo… some more practical lover filling… I’m a fool and no gentleman: I wa… with Crane in pajamas, but suicide… there’s less and less to kill.
do not b other the beagle lying th… away from grass and flowers and pa… dreaming dogdreams, or perhaps dre… nothing, as men do awake; yes, leave him be, in that simple…
The next day we picked up some of her stuff at this motel. There was a little dark guy in there with a wart on the side of his nose. He looked dangerous. Hector was sitting on the edge ...
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...
she writes continually like a long nozzle spraying the air,
maybe I’ll win the Irish Sweepsta… maybe I’ll go nuts maybe Harcourt Brace will call or maybe unemployment insurance or rich lesbian at the top of a hill.
By the time they called me to dinner I was able to pull up my clothing and walk to the breakfast nook where we ate all our meals except on Sunday. There were two pillows on my chair. I ...
it was up in San Francisco after my poetry reading. it had been a nice crowd I had gotten my money I had this place upstairs
Within a day or two, about 1 pm in the afternoon there was a knock at my door. It was a painter, Monty Riff, or so he informed me. He also told me that I used to get drunk with him when...
Sam the whorehouse man has squeaky shoes and he walks up and down the court squeaking and talking to
never even in calmer times have I ever dreamed of bicycling through that
The flies are angry bits of life; why are they so angry? it seems they want more, it seems almost as if they are angry