#AmericanWriters #Suicide
A trout-colored wind blows through my eyes, through my finger… and I remember how the trout used to hide from the dinosaurs when they came to drink at the riv…
Ah, you’re just a copy of all the candy bars I’ve ever eaten.
THE AUTOPSY OF TROUT FISHING IN AMERICA This is the autopsy of Trout Fish… Fishing in America had been Lord… Missolonghi, Greece, and afterwar…
La voyageuse qui traverse les Hal… Marchait sur la pointe des pieds Le désespoir roulait au ciel ses g… Et dans le sac à main il y avait… Que seule a respiré la marraine de…
Everybody wants to go to bed with everybody else, they’re lined up for blocks, so I’ll go to bed with you. They won’t miss us.
THE COVER FOR TROUT FISHING IN AMERICA The cover for Trout Fishing in A… late in the afternoon, a photograp… statue in San Francisco’s Washing…
ZAP! unlaid / 20 days
SANDBOX MINUS JOHN DILLINGER EQUALS WHAT? Often I return to the cover of Tr… took the baby and went down there… watering the cover with big revolv…
A girl in a green mini– skirt, not very pretty, walks down the street.
I am standing in the cemetery at… What did Judy say? ‘God-forsaken… A very old man who has cancer on h… care of the cemetery, is raking a… manner as to almost (polish it lik…
The petals of the vagina unfold like Christofer Columbus taking off his shoes. Is there anything more beautiful than the bow of a ship
It’s a star that looks like a poker game above the mountains of eastern Oregon. There are three men playing.
Just because people love your mind, doesn’t mean they have to have your body,
We stopped at perfect days and got out of the car. The wind glanced at her hair. It was as simple as that. I turned to say something—
she tries to get things out of men that she can’t get because she’s not 15% prettier
