another bed another woman more curtains another bathroom another kitchen

I met an old drunk on the street one afternoon. I used to know him from the days with Betty when we made the rounds of the bars. He told me that he was now a postal clerk and that there...

think of the beds used again and again to fuck in to die in. in this land

I was back in L.A. about a week and a half. It was night. The phone rang. It was Cecelia, she was sobbing. “Hank, Bill is dead. You’re the first one I’ve called.” “I’m so glad you came ...

you just don’t know how to do it, you know that, and you can’t do a lot of other useful things either. it’s the fault of the

They had this thing called Training Class, and so for 30 minutes each night, anyhow, we didn’t have to stick mail. A big Italiano got up on the lecture platform to tell us where it was....

in the afternoon they lean against one another and you can see how much they like the sun.

I’m out of matches. the springs in my couch are broken. they stole my footlocker. they stole my oil painting of

first time my father overheard me… this bit of music he asked me, “what is it?” “it’s called Love For Three Oran… I informed him.

half drunk I left her place her warm blankets and I was hungover didn’t even know what town

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...