#AmericanWriters #1977 #LoveIsADogFromHell
nobody goes downtown anymore the plants and trees have been cut… Pershing Square the grass is brown and the street preachers are not a…
when God created love he didn’t he… when God created dogs He didn’t h… when God created plants that was a… when God created hate we had a sta… when God created me He created me
absolutely sesamoid said the skeleton shoving his chalky foot upon my desk, and that was it,
she only fucks the ones she doesn’… to marry. to the others she says you’ve got to marry me. or maybe she just fucks the ones s…
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,
I found a room on Temple Street in the Filipino district. It was $3.50 a week, upstairs on the second floor. I paid the landlady—a middle-aged blond—a week’s rent. The toilet and tub we...
When Jonstone saw me the next 5 a.m. he spun in his swivel and his face and his shirt were the same color. But he said nothing. I didn’t care. I had been up to 2 a.m. drinking and screw...
red hair real she whirled it and she asked “is my ass still on?”
The track had moved down the coast a hundred miles or so. I kept paying the rent on my apartment in town, got in my car and drove down. Once or twice a week I would drive back to the ap...
I was the last one off the plane and there was Joanna Dover. “Joanna, let’s have a Bloody Mary while we wait for my baggage. Oh hell, I don’t have any baggage. But let’s have a Bloody M...
R.O.T.C. kept me away from sports while the other guys practiced every day. They made the school teams, won their letters and got the girls. My days were spent mostly marching around in...
she’s young, she said, but look at me, I have pretty ankl… and look at my wrists, I have pret… wrists my god,
But then it began raining again. The Stone had me out on a thing called Sunday Collection, and if you’re thinking of church, forget it. You picked up a truck at West Garage and a clipbo...
think of the beds used again and again to fuck in to die in. in this land
sway with me, everything sad— madmen in stone houses without doors, lepers steaming love and song frogs trying to figure