he talked about Steinbeck and Tho… wrote like a cross between the two… and I lived in a hotel on Figuero… close to the bars and he lived further uptown in a s…

looking out the window smoking rolled cigarettes drinking Sanka and watching the workers come on in

having the low down blues and goin… into a restraunt to eat. you sit at a table. the waitress smiles at you. she’s dumpy. her ass is too big.

One day I was at the bar between races and I saw this woman. God or somebody keeps creating women and tossing them out on the streets, and this one’s ass is too big and that one’s tits ...

I drank for the next week. I drank night and day and wrote 25 or 30 mournful poems about lost love. It was Friday night when the phone rang. It was Mercedes. “I got married,” she said, ...

majestic, magic infinite my little girl is sun on the carpet—

knew you were a bad-ass,” he said. you sat in the back of Art class a… you never said anything. then I saw you in that brutal figh… with the guy with the dirty yellow

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...

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

Bobby’s wife worked two nights a week and when she was gone he got on the telephone. I knew that on Tuesday and Thursday nights he would be lonely. It was Tuesday night when the phone r...

there’s Barry in his ripped walkin… he’s on Thorazine is 24 looks 38 lives with his mother in the same

at North Avenue 21 drunk tank you… there was always some guy who woul… way to the crapper and then you would curse him good,… he would know enough to either be…

she wrote me for years. “I’m drinking wine in the kitchen. it’s raining outside. the children are in school.” she was an average citizen