#Americans #Suicide #Epigram
At two o’clock in the morning two Hungarians got into a cigar store at Fifteenth Street and Grand Avenue. Drevitts and Boyle drove up from the Fifteenth Street police station in a Ford....
I like Canadians. They are so unlike Americans. They go home at night. Their cigarettes don’t smell bad. Their hats fit.
There was a cat named Crazy Chris… Who never lived long enough to scr… He was gay hearted, young and hand… And all the secrets of life he kne… He would always arrive on time for…
Desire and All the sweet pulsing aches And gentle hurtings That were you, Are gone into the sullen dark.
So now, Losing the three last night, Taking them back today, Dripping and dark the woods . . .
For we have thought the longer tho… And gone the shorter way. And we have danced to devils’ tune… Shivering home to pray; To serve one master in the night,
In the rain in the rain in the rai… Does it rain in Spain? Oh yes my dear on the contrary and… The dancers dance in long white pa… It isn’t right to yence your aunts
That night we lay on the floor in the room and I listened to the silk-worms eating. The silk-worms fed in racks of mulberry leaves and all night you could hear them eating and a droppin...
So he ate an orange, slowly spitting out the seeds. Outside, the snow was turning to rain. Inside, the electric stove seemed to give no heat and rising from his writing-table, he sat do...
If it happened right down close in front of you, you could see Villalta snarl at the bull and curse him, and when the bull charged he swung back firmly like an oak when the wind hits it...
In 1919 he was travelling on the railroads in Italy carrying a square of oilcloth from the headquarters of the party written in indelible pencil and saying here was a comrade who had su...
All of the Indians are dead (a good Indian is a dead Indian) Or riding in motor cars— (the oil lands, you know, they’re… Smoke smarts my eyes,
He tried to spit out the truth; Dry—mouthed at first, He drooled and slobbered in the en… Truth dribbling his chin.
A porcupine skin, Stiff with bad tanning, It must have ended somewhere. Stuffed horned owl Pompous
While the bombardment was knocking the trench to pieces at Fossalta, he lay very flat and sweated and prayed oh jesus christ get me out of here. Dear jesus please get me out. Christ ple...
