I hear them outside: “does he always type this late?” “no, it’s very unusual.” “he shouldn’t type this

bluebird there’s a bluebird in my heart tha… wants to get out but I’m too tough for him, say, stay in there, I’m not going

as the orchid dies and the grass goes insane, let’s have one for the los… met an old man and a tired whore

there he is: not too many hangovers not too many fights with women not too many flat tires never a thought of suicide

I got back, made love to Lydia several times, got in a fight with her, and left L. A. International late one morning to give a reading in Arkansas. I was lucky enough to have a seat by ...

you’re a beast, she said your big white belly and those hairy feet. you never cut your nails and you have fat hands

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…

turmoil is the god madness is the god permanent living peace is permanent living death. agony can kill

once we were young at this machine. . . drinking

drinking German beer and trying to come up with the immortal poem at 5 p.m. in the afternoon. but, ah, I’ve told the

Frank liked airplanes. He lent me all his pulp magazines about World War 1. The best was Flying Aces. The dog-fights were great, the Spads and the Fokkers mixing it. I read all the stor...

I came out of the bar and checked the message board. The plane was on time. Katherine was in the air and moving towards me. I sat down and waited. Across from me was a well-groomed woma...