#AmericanWriters #1993 #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
Some say we should keep personal r… poem, stay abstract, and there is some r… but jezus; twelve poems gone and I don’t keep…
when you’re young a pair of female high-heeled shoes just sitting
feet of cheese coffeepot soul hands that hate poolsticks eyes like paperclips I prefer red wine
a woman told a man when he got off a plane that I was dead. a magazine printed the fact that I was dead
screen like a burglar to take your… the snake had crawled the hole, and she said, tell me about yourself.
she writes: you’ll be moaning and groaning in your poems about how I fucked those 2 guys last week.
think of de vils in hell and stare at a beautiful vase of flowers as the woman in my bedroom
3 small boys run toward me blowing whistles and they scream you’re under arrest! you’re drunk!
The baby was crawling, discovering the world. Marina slept in bed with us at night. There was Marina, Fay, the cat and myself. The cat slept on the bed too. Look here, I thought, I have...
the essence of the belly like a white balloon sacked is disturbing like the running of feet on the stairs
my mother, father and I walked to the market once a week for our government relief food: cans of beans, cans of
death wants more death, and its we… I remember my father’s garage, how… I would brush the corpses of flies from the windows they thought were… their sticky, ugly, vibrant bodies
do not b other the beagle lying th… away from grass and flowers and pa… dreaming dogdreams, or perhaps dre… nothing, as men do awake; yes, leave him be, in that simple…
red summers and black satin charcoal and blood ringing the sheets while snails are stepped on and moths go batty
Go to Tibet. Ride a camel. Read the Bible. Dye your shoes blue. Grow a Beard.
