#AmericanWriters
in junior high school Big Max was a problem. we’d be sitting during lunch hour eating our peanut butter sandwiche… and potato chips.
she undressed in front of me keeping her pussy to the front while I lay in bed with a bottle o… beer. where’d you get that wart on
you gotta have wars suppose World War One was the bes… really, you know, both sides were… they really had something to fight… they really thought they had somet…
the centerfielder turns rushes back reaches up his glove and
my father was a practical man. he had an idea. you see, my son, he said, I can pay for this house in my lif… then it’s mine.
there are beasts in the salt shake… and airdromes in the coffeepot. my mother’s hand is in the bag dra… and from the backs of spoons come the cries of tiny tortured animals…
not much chance, completely cut loose from purpose, he was a young man riding a bus
the droll noon where squadrons of worms creep up like stripteasers to be raped by blackbirds. I go outside
The voices of the people were the same, no matter where you carried the mail you heard the same things over and over again. “You’re late, aren’t you?” “Where’s the regular carrier?” “He...
I keep thinking it will be outside now waiting for me blue front bumper twisted
he talks like he writes and he has a face like a dove, unt… externals. little shiver of horror runs throu… about
the best often die by their own ha… just to get away, and those left behind can never quite understand why anybody
There were continual fights. The teachers didn’t seem to know anything about them. And there was always trouble when it rained. Any boy who brought an umbrella to school or wore a rainc...
“What’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?” We got into my car and she told me where she lived. We stopped for a couple of big steaks, vegetables, stuff for a salad, potatoes, b...
I heard it first while screwing a… who had the biggest box in Scranton. I listened to it again as I wrote… to my mother
