#1993 #AmericanWriters #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
they go on writing pumping out poems— young boys and college professors wives who drink wine all afternoon while their husbands work,
Van Gogh cut off his ear gave it to a prostitute who flung it away in extreme
there waas a rock-and-mud slide on the Pacific Coast Highway and… detour and they directed us up int… and traffic was slow and it was ho… we were lost.
it sits outside my window now like and old woman going to market… it sits and watches me, it sweats nevously through wire and fog and dog—bark
I have a saying, “the tough ones a… back.” but Vera was kinder than most, and so I was surprised when she arrived that night
she came to my place drunk riding a deer up on the front porc… so many women want to save the wor… but can’t keep their own kitchens… but me...
my moustache is pasted-on and my wig and my eyebrows and even my eyes... then something stuns me... the lampshades swing, I hear
in San Francisco the landlady, 80… Victrola up the stairway and I pl… until they beat on the walls. there was a large bucket in the ce… filled with beer and winebottles;
Lydia had two children; Tonto, a boy of 8, and Lisa, the little girl of 5 who had interrupted our first fuck. We were together at the table one night eating dinner. Things were going we...
stew at noon, my dear; and look: the ants, the sawdust, the mica plants, the shadows of banks like bad jokes; do you think we’ll hear
I was editing a little magazine at the time, The Laxative Approach. I had two co-editors and we felt that we were printing the best poets of our time. Also some of the other kind. One o...
I was in the 4th grade when I found out about it. I was probably one of the last to know, because I still didn’t talk to anybody. A boy walked up to “Your mother has a hole . . .”—he to...
Lydia returned and found a nice apartment in the Burbank area. She seemed to care a lot more for me than before we parted. “My husband had this big cock and that’s all he had. He had no...
the lady has me temporarily off th… and now the pecker stands up better. however, things change overnight— instead of listening to Shostakovi…
turmoil is the god madness is the god permanent living peace is permanent living death. agony can kill