in the winter walking on my ceiling my eyes the size of street… I have 4 feet like a mouse but wash my own underwear—bearded and hungover and a hard-on and no lawy…

in the men’s room at the track this boy of about 7 or 8 years old came out of a stall

The Stone’s favorite carrier was Matthew Battles. Battles never came in with a wrinkled shirt on. In fact, everything he wore was new, looked new. The shoes, the shirts, the pants, the ...

it is like this when you slip down, done like a wound-up victrola (you remember those?) and you go downtown

think of de vils in hell and stare at a beautiful vase of flowers as the woman in my bedroom

we take what we can see— the engines driving us mad, lovers finally hating; this fish in the market staring upward into our minds;

One night my father took me on his milk route. There were no longer any horsedrawn wagons. The milk trucks now had engines. After loading up at the milk company we drove off on his rout...

Two mornings later, at 4 am, somebody beat on the door. I let Tammie in. She sat down and I opened a couple of beers. “I’ve got bad breath, I have these two bad teeth. You can’t kiss me...

the ladies of summer will die like… and the lie the ladies of summer will love so long as the price is not forever

I had this room in front on DeLon… and I used to sit for hours in the daytime looking out the front window.