#1977 #AmericanWriters #LoveIsADogFromHell
well, first Mae West died and then George Raft, and Eddie G. Robinson’s been gone long time,
majestic, magic infinite my little girl is sun on the carpet—
225 days under grass and you know more than I. they have long taken your blood, you are a dry stick in a basket. is this how it works?
during my worst times on the park benches in the jails or living with whores
Back in L.A., there was almost a week of peace. Then the phone rang. It was the owner of a Manhattan Beach nightclub, Marty Seavers. I had read there a couple of times before. The club ...
what’s bad about all this is watching people drinking coffee and waiting. I would
he got knifed in broad daylight, c… holding his hands over his gut, dr… on the pavement. nobody waiting in line left their… he made it to the Mission doorway,…
the balance is preserved by the sn… the Santa Monica cliffs; the luck is in walking down Wester… and having the girls in a massage parlor holler at you, “Hello, Swe…
once bought a toy rabbit at a department store and now he sits and ponders me with pink sheer eyes: He wants golf balls and glass
he buys 5 cars a month, details th… them out, then resells them at a profit of one or… he has a nice Jewish wife and he t… bangs her until the walls shake.
yeah sure, I’ll be in unless I’m… don’t knock if the lights are out or you hear voices or then I might be reading Proust if someone slips Proust under my d…
you came out, she said, and then you kicked this guy’s car and then you threw yourself into a… you crushed the whole bush,
in junior high school Big Max was a problem. we’d be sitting during lunch hour eating our peanut butter sandwiche… and potato chips.
up in northern California he stood in the pulpit and had been reading for some time he had been reading poems about nature and the goodness
he was just a cat cross-eyed, dirty white with pale blue eyes