#AmericanWriters #1977 #LoveIsADogFromHell
you have to have it or the walls w… in. you have to give everything up, th… away, everything away. you have to look at what you look…
the dead can sleep they don’t get up and rage they don’t have a wife. her white face like a flower in a closed
the cockroach crouched against the tile while I was pissing and as I turned my head he hauled his butt
knew you were a bad-ass,” he said. you sat in the back of Art class a… you never said anything. then I saw you in that brutal figh… with the guy with the dirty yellow
cleaned my place the other day first time in ten years and found 100 rejected poems: fastened them all to a clipboard much bad reading.
Four or five days passed. The phone rang. It was Tammie. “Listen, Hank. You know that little bridge you cross in your car when you drive to my mother’s place?” “Well, right by there the...
We are like roses that have never… bloom when we should have bloomed… it is as if the sun has become disgusted with waiting
In the morning I heard her walkin… It was about 10:30 a.m. I was sic… She shook me. “Listen, I want you… “So what? I’ll screw her too.” “Yeah,” she laughed, “yeah.”
I took Tammie. We got there a little early and went to a bar across the street. We got a table. “Now don’t drink too much, Hank. You know how you slur your words and miss your lines whe...
the house next door makes me sad. both man and wife rise early and go to work. they arrive home in early evening.
she wrote me a letter from a small room near the Seine. she said she was going to dancing class, she got up, she said at 5 o’clock in the morning
she’s not for you, man, she’s not your type, she’s erased she’s been used she’s got all the wrong
they go on writing pumping out poems— young boys and college professors wives who drink wine all afternoon while their husbands work,
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…
When I awakened a few hours later, Tanya was not in the bed. It was only 9 am. I found her sitting on the couch drinking out of a pint of whiskey. “I always get up at noon. We’re going ...