#AmericanWriters #1973 #AtTerrorStreetAndAgonyWay #BurningInWaterDrowningInFlame
god I got the sad blue blues, this woman sat there and she said are you really Charles Bukowski?
he has on blue jeans and tennis sh… and walks with two young girls about his age. every now and then he leaps into the air and
he said, “I was working in Hollyw… working in Hollywood and he was the worst: he was too drunk to sta… end of the afternoon and so I had… into a taxi
all right, while we are gently cel… and while crazy classical music le… my small radio, I light a fresh ci… and realize that I am still very m… the 21st century is almost upon me…
So I was surprised when the phone rang a couple of nights later and it was Cassie. “What are you doing, Hank?” She gave me the address, it was either Westwood or West L. A. “I have plen...
I go to pick her up. she’s on some errand. she always has errands many things to do. I have nothing to do.
think of the beds used again and again to fuck in to die in. in this land
The guide took us all over the building. There were so many of us that they had to break us up into groups. We used the elevator in shifts. We were shown the employee’s cafeteria, the b...
It was noon the next day when the phone rang. It was Lydia again. I heard a long insane wail like a wolverine shot in the arctic snow and left to bleed and die alone. . . . I slept most...
this Friday night the Mexican girls at the Catholic… look especially good their husbands are in the bars and the Mexican girls look young
listen, man, don’t tell me about t… sent, we didn’t receive them, we are very careful with manuscrip… we bake them burn them
They had this thing called Training Class, and so for 30 minutes each night, anyhow, we didn’t have to stick mail. A big Italiano got up on the lecture platform to tell us where it was....
no one is sorry I am leaving, not even I; but there should be a minstrel or at least a glass of wine. bothers the young most, I think:
we are gathered here now to bury her in this poem. she did not marry an unemployed wi… beat her every
A day or so later I got a poem in the mail from Lydia. It was a long poem and it began: Come out, old troll, Come out of your dark hole, old troll, Come out into the sunlight with us an...