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;

a great white light dawns across t… continent as we fawn over our failed traditi… often kill to preserve them or sometimes kill just to kill.

Mindy stayed about a week. I introduced her to my friends. We went places. But nothing was resolved. I couldn’t climax. She didn’t seem to mind. It was strange. Around 10:45 PM one even...

out of the arms of one love and into the arms of another I have been saved from dying on th… by a lady who smokes pot writes songs and stories,

Two nights later I went over to Tammie’s place on Rustic Court. I knocked. The lights weren’t on. It seemed empty. I looked in her mailbox. There were letters in there. I wrote a note, ...

since my last name was Fuch, he sa… believe the school yard was tough:… powder down my neck, threw gravel… with rubber bands in class, and ou… me names, well, one name mainly, o…

I had to fly to Illinois to give a reading at the University. I hated readings, but they helped with the rent and maybe they helped sell books. They got me out of east Hollywood, they g...

Fay was all right with the pregnancy. For an old gal, she was all right. We waited around at our place. Finally the time came. “It won’t be long,” she said. “I don’t want to get there t...

That night I gave another bad reading. I didn’t care. They didn’t care. If John Cage could get one thousand dollars for eating an apple, I’d accept $500 plus air fare for being a lemon....

great writer remains in bed shades down doesn’t want to see anyone doesn’t want to write anymore doesn’t want to try anymore;

it is like this when you slip down, done like a wound-up victrola (you remember those?) and you go downtown