#AmericanWriters #1973 #AtTerrorStreetAndAgonyWay #BurningInWaterDrowningInFlame
ah, Merryman, fighter on the docks, killed a man while they were unloa… bananas. mean the man he killed
On Thanksgiving Iris prepared the turkey and put it in the oven. Bobby and Valerie came over for a few drinks but they didn’t stay. It was refreshing. Iris had on another dress, just as...
listen, he said, you ever seen a b… bucket? no, I told him. well, what happens is that now and… will climb up on top of the others
he carried a piece of carbon, a blade and a whip and at night he feared his head and covered it with blankets
the acute and terrible air hangs w… as summer birds mingle in the bran… and warble and mystify the clamor of the mind… an old parrot
he talks like he writes and he has a face like a dove, unt… externals. little shiver of horror runs throu… about
escape from the black widow spider is a miracle as great as art. what a web she can weave slowly drawing you to her she’ll embrace you
I cross the room to the last wall the last window the last pink sun with its arms around the world
in the winter walking on my ceiling my eyes the size of street… I have 4 feet like a mouse but wash my own underwear—bearded and hungover and a hard-on and no lawy…
am sitting on a tin chair outside… death, on stinking wings, wafts th… halls forevermore. remember the hospital stenches fro… was a boy and when I was a man and…
Jane, who has been dead for 31 yea… never could have imagined that I would write a scre… days together and
is a highrise apt. next door and he beats her at night and she… and I see her the next day standing in the driveway with curl… and she has her huge buttocks jamm…
he spoke to mice and sparrows and his hair was white at the age… his father beat him every day and… lit candles in the church. his grandmother came while the boy…
I forget the beginning time. 6 or 7 p.m. Something like that. All you did was sit with a handful of letters, take a streetmap and figure your run. It was easy. All the drivers took much...
oh, how worried they are about my soul! I get letters the phone rings... “are you going to be all right?”