drinking 15 dollar champagne— Cordon Rouge—with the hookers. one is named Georgia and she doesn’t like pantyhose: I keep helping her pull up
she’s young, she said, but look at me, I have pretty ankl… and look at my wrists, I have pret… wrists my god,
I have been looking at the same lampshade for 5 years and it has gathered
the ladies of summer will die like… and the lie the ladies of summer will love so long as the price is not forever
“your poems about the girls will s… 50 years from now when the girls a… my editor phones me. dear editor: the girls appear to be gone
when you’re young a pair of female high-heeled shoes just sitting
turmoil is the god madness is the god permanent living peace is permanent living death. agony can kill
there he is: not too many hangovers not too many fights with women not too many flat tires never a thought of suicide
went for a walk on Hollywood Boul… looked down and there was a large… walking beside me. his pace was exactly the same as m… we stopped at traffic signals toge…
the droll noon where squadrons of worms creep up like stripteasers to be raped by blackbirds. I go outside
swans die in the Spring too and there it floated dead on a Sunday sideways circling in the current
during my worst times on the park benches in the jails or living with whores
around 2 a.m. in my small room after turning off the poem machine for now
watch them push the crippled and t… in their wheelchairs on to the electric lift which carries them up into the lon… where each chair is locked down
the centerfielder turns rushes back reaches up his glove and
Born like this Into this As the chalk faces smile As Mrs. Death laughs As the elevators break
unaccountably we are alone forever alone and it was meant to be that way, was never meant
had it for a year, really put in lot of bedroom time, slept upright on two pillows to keep from coughing, all the blood drained from my head
the rooms at the hospital went for 550 a day. that was for the room alone. the amazing thing, though, was tha… in some of the rooms
am sitting on a tin chair outside… death, on stinking wings, wafts th… halls forevermore. remember the hospital stenches fro… was a boy and when I was a man and…
at the hospital that I have been going to the nurses seem overweight. they are bulky in their
half-past nowhere alone in the crumbling tower of myself stumbling in this the
64 days and nights in that place, chemotherapy, antibiotics, blood running into the catheter. leukemia.
smoking a cigarette and noting a m… flattened out against the wall and died as organ music from centuries back… my black radio
now the territory is taken, the sacrificial lambs have been sl… as history is scratched again on t… as the bankers scurry to survive, as the young girls paint their hun…
the words have come and gone, I sit ill. the phone rings, the cats sleep. Linda vacuums. I am waiting to live,
blue fish, the blue night, a blue… everything is blue. and my cats are blue: blue fur, bl… blue whiskers, blue eyes. my bed lamp shines
more wasted days, gored days, evaporated days. more squandered days, days pissed away,
no one is sorry I am leaving, not even I; but there should be a minstrel or at least a glass of wine. bothers the young most, I think:
the drifting of the mind. the slow loss, the leaking away. one’s demise is not very interesti… from my bed I watch 3 birds throug… one coal black, one dark brown, th…
