#AmericanWriters
waiting for death like a cat that will jump on the bed I am so very sorry for
the centerfielder turns rushes back reaches up his glove and
ah, Merryman, fighter on the docks, killed a man while they were unloa… bananas. mean the man he killed
the mockingbird had been following… all summer mocking mocking mocking teasing and cocksure; the cat crawled under rockers on p…
we had goldfish and they circled a… in the bowl on the table near the… covering the picture window and my mother, always smiling, wanting… to be happy, told me, ‘be happy He…
I cut the middle fingernail of the… finger right hand real short and I began rubbing along her cunt
long ago he edited a little magazi… was up in San Francisco during the beat era during the reading-poetry-with-jaz… and I remember him because he neve…
the history of melancholia includes all of us. me, I writhe in dirty sheets while staring at blue walls and nothing.
once we were young at this machine. . . drinking
we like to shower afterwards (I like the water hotter than she) and her face is always soft and pe… and she’ll wash me first spread the soap over my balls
the house next door makes me sad. both man and wife rise early and go to work. they arrive home in early evening.
The riots ended, the baby calmed down, and I found ways to avoid Janko. But the dizzy spells persisted. The doctor wrote me a standing order for the green-white librium capsules and the...
the lilies storm my brain by god by god like nazi storm troopers! do you think I’m going tizzy?
I always wanted to ball Henry Miller, she said, but by the time I got there it was too late. damn it, I said, you girls
stew at noon, my dear; and look: the ants, the sawdust, the mica plants, the shadows of banks like bad jokes; do you think we’ll hear