#AmericanWriters #1993 #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
it beats love because there aren’t… wounds: in the morning she turns on the radio, Brahms or… or Stravinsky or Mozart. she boil… eggs counting the seconds out loud…
Making love in the sun, in the mor… in a hotel room above the alley where poor men poke for bottles; making love in the sun
there are these small cliffs above the sea and it is night, late night; I have been unable to sleep, and with my car above me
women don’t know how to love, she told me. you know how to love but women just want to leech.
Lydia and I were always fighting. She was a flirt and it irritated me. When we ate out I was sure she was eyeballing some man across the room. When my male friends came by to visit and ...
she reads to me from the New York… which I don’t buy, don’t know how they get in here, but it’s something about the Mafia one of the heads of the Mafia
you gotta have wars suppose World War One was the bes… really, you know, both sides were… they really had something to fight… they really thought they had somet…
as the orchid dies and the grass goes insane, let’s have one for the los… met an old man and a tired whore
these boys have got class they ought to make kings out of old men rolling cigarettes in rooms small enough
I met a genius on the train today about 6 years old, he sat beside me and as the train
John F. Kennedy flower knocks upo… shot through the neck; the gladiolas gather by the dozens… India dripping into Ceylon;
are we going to the movies or not? she asked him. all right, he said, let’s go. I’m not going to put any pan ties… so you can finger-fuck me in the
It was a Wednesday night, 12:30 am and I was very sick. My stomach was raw, but I managed to hold down a few beers. Tammie was with me and she seemed sympathetic. Dancy was at her grand...
I’m not going to die easy; I’ve sat on your suicide beds in some of the worst holes in America,
the goldfish sing all night with g… and the whores go down with the st… the whores go down with the stars I’m sorry, sir, we close at 4:30, besides yr mother’s neck is dirty,
