#AmericanWriters #Suicide
If I were to live my life in catfish forms in scaffolds of skin and whiskers at the bottom of a pond and you were to come by
I lift the toliet seat as if it were the nest of a bird and I see cat tracks all around the edge of the bowl.
Sometimes life is merely a matter… affords. I once read something abo… it stimulates all the organs. I thought at first this was a stra… as time goes by I have found out t…
THE COVER FOR TROUT FISHING IN AMERICA The cover for Trout Fishing in A… late in the afternoon, a photograp… statue in San Francisco’s Washing…
Three crates of Private Eye Lett… the name and drawing of a detectiv… with magnifying glass on the sides of the crates of lettuce, form a great cross in man’s imagin…
I feel horrible. She doesn’t love me and I wander around like a sewing machine that’s just finished sewing a turd to a garbage can lid.
It’s a star that looks like a poker game above the mountains of eastern Oregon. There are three men playing.
A girl in a green mini– skirt, not very pretty, walks down the street.
I am standing in the cemetery at… What did Judy say? ‘God-forsaken… A very old man who has cancer on h… care of the cemetery, is raking a… manner as to almost (polish it lik…
I sit here, an arch-villain of rom… thinking about you. Gee, I’m sorr… I made you unhappy, but there was… I could do about it because I hav… Perhaps everything would have been…
THE PUDDING MASTER OF STANLEY BASIN Tree, snow and rock beginnings, th… lake promised us eternity, but the… thousands of silly minnows, swimmi…
We left Little Redfish for Lake Josephus, traveling along the good names—from Stanley to Capehorn to Seafoam to the Rapid River, up Float Creek, past the Greyhound Mine and then to Lake...
It’s night
When you take your pill it’s like a mine disaster. I think of all the people lost inside of you.
It seemed like years before I picked a bouquet
