#AmericanWriters #1977 #LoveIsADogFromHell
the canaries were there, and the l… and the old woman with warts; and I was there, a child and I touched the piano keys as they talked—
red hair real she whirled it and she asked “is my ass still on?”
believe in earning one’s own way but I also believe in the unexpect… gift and it is a wondrous thing when a woman who has read your wor…
see this poem? was written without drinking. don’t need to drink to write.
you won’t see them often for wherever the crowd is they are not. those odd ones, not
“...I’ve seen people in front of their typewriters in such a bind that it would blow their intestine… right out of their assholes if the… were trying to shit.”
all I’ve ever known are whores, ex… madwomen. I see men with quiet, gentle women—I see them in the sup… I see them walking down the street… I see them in their apartments: pe…
she wrote me a letter from a small room near the Seine. she said she was going to dancing class, she got up, she said at 5 o’clock in the morning
It’s never quite right, he said, t… the way the music sounds, the way… written. It’s never quite right, he said, a… taught, all the loves we chase, al…
the critics now have me drinking champagne and driving a BMW and also married to a socialite from
I have seen an old man around town… carrying an enormous pack. he uses a walking stick and moves up and down the streets with this pack strapped to his bac…
To end up alone in a tomb of a room without cigarettes or wine— just a lightbulb
there was a frozen tree that I wan… but the shells came down and in Vegas looking across at a g… at 3:30 in the morning, I died without nails, without a co…
I saw a vacancy sign in the window in front of a rooming-house, had the cabby pull up. I paid him and walked up on the front porch, rang the bell. I had one black eye from the fight, an...
at high noon at a small college near the beach sober the sweat running down my arms a spot of sweat on the table