Every night was about the same. I’d drive along the coast looking for a place to have dinner. I wanted an expensive place that wasn’t too crowded. I developed a nose for those places. I...

if I suffer at this typewriter think how I’d feel among the lettuce-pickers of Salinas?

the boy walks with his muddy feet… soul talking about recitals, virtuosi,… the lesser known novels of Dostoev… talking about how he corrected a w…

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

feet of cheese coffeepot soul hands that hate poolsticks eyes like paperclips I prefer red wine

I had been corresponding with a lady in San Francisco for several months. Her name was Liza Weston and she survived by giving dance lessons, including ballet, in her own studio. She was...

The drilling and squeezing continued for weeks but there was little result. When one boil vanished another would appear. I often stood in front of the mirror alone, wondering how ugly a...

I didn’t do much the rest of the week. The Oaktree meet was on. I went to the track 2 or 3 times, broke even. I wrote a dirty story for a sex mag, wrote 10 or 12 poems, masturbated, and...

But there were some good moments. My sometime friend from the neighborhood, Gene, who was a year older than I, had a buddy, Harry Gibson, who had had one professional fight (he’d lost)....

eating cold plums in bed she told me about the German who owned everything on the block except the custom drapery shop and he tried to buy

I’m soft. I dream too. I let myself dream. I dream of being famous. I dream of walking the streets of London and

I had worked my charms on her for a couple of nights in a bar— not that we were new lovers, I had loved her for 16 months but she didn’t want to come to my…

Office of Postmaster—United States Post Office—January 1, 1970 The attention of all employees is directed to the Code of Ethics for postal employees as set forth in Part 742 of the Post...

in the earliest possible day in the blue-headed noon I will telegraph you a boney hand decorated with

Then Joyce wanted to go back to the city. For all the draw– backs, that little town, haircuts or not, beat city life. It was quiet. We had our own house. Joyce fed me well.) Plenty of m...