#Americans #XXCentury #1977 #LoveIsADogFromHell
live alone in a small room and read the newspapers and sleep alone in the dark dreaming of crowds.
I’m not going to die easy; I’ve sat on your suicide beds in some of the worst holes in America,
when I was in grammar school my parents were poor and in my lunch bag there was only a peanut butter sandwich.
“You ought to try to be like Abe Mortenson,” said my mother, “he gets straight A’s. Why can’t you ever get any A’s?” “Henry is dead on his ass,” said my father. “Sometimes I can’t belie...
it’s strange when famous people di… whether they have fought the good… the bad one. it’s strange when famous people di… whether we like them or not
It was 12 hours a night, plus supervisors, plus clerks, plus the fact that you could hardly breathe in that pack of flesh, plus stale baked food in the “non-profit” cafeteria. Plus the ...
old grey-haired waitresses in cafes at night have given it up, and as I walk down sidewalks of light and look into windows
I was in the 4th grade when I found out about it. I was probably one of the last to know, because I still didn’t talk to anybody. A boy walked up to “Your mother has a hole . . .”—he to...
some people never go crazy. me, sometimes I’ll lie down behind… for 3 or 4 days. they’ll find me there. it’s Cherub, they’ll say, and
Shirley came to town with a broken… and met the Chicano who smoked long slim cigars and they got a place together on Beacon street
listening to Bruckner on the radio wondering why I’m not half mad over the latest breakup with my latest girlfriend wondering why I’m not driving the…
her shoes themselves would light my room like many candles. she walks like all things shining on glass,
We got back to 1010. I had my check. I’d left word that we didn’t want to be disturbed. Tammie and I sat drinking. I’d read 5 or 6 love poems about her. “They knew who I was,” she said....
at the window I watch a man with a power mower the sounds of his doing race like flies and bees
she’s from Texas and weighs 103 pounds and stands before the mirror combing oceans of reddish hair