#Americans #XXCentury #1993 #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
We had another fight. Later I was back at my place but I didn’t feel like sitting there alone and drinking. The night harness racing meet was on. I took a pint and went out to the track...
she died of alcoholism wrapped in a blanket on a deck chair on an ocean steamer.
Style is the answer to everything. A fresh way to approach a dull or… To do a dull thing with style is p… To do a dangerous thing with style… Bullfighting can be an art
my friend is worried about dying he lives in Frisco I live in L.A. he goes to the gym and works with the iron and hits
absolutely sesamoid said the skeleton shoving his chalky foot upon my desk, and that was it,
the bulls are grand as the side of… and although they kill them for th… it is the bull that burns the fire… and although there are cowardly bu… there are cowardly matadors and co…
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...
are we going to the movies or not? she asked him. all right, he said, let’s go. I’m not going to put any pan ties… so you can finger-fuck me in the
stepped into the wrong end of the… right leg which was bad to begin w… with a tv writer and an actor, som… life to make a sitcom and luckily… day at the track I get a box seat…
sway with me, everything sad— madmen in stone houses without doors, lepers steaming love and song frogs trying to figure
I have seen an old man around town… carrying an enormous pack. he uses a walking stick and moves up and down the streets with this pack strapped to his bac…
and the sun wields mercy but like a jet torch carried to hi… and the jets whip across its sight and rockets leap like toads, and the boys get out the maps
To give life you must take life, and as our grief falls flat and ho… upon the billion—blooded sea I pass upon serious inward—breakin… with white—legged, white—bellied r…
I cross the room to the last wall the last window the last pink sun with its arms around the world
A month went by. R.A. Dwight, the editor of Dogbite Press wrote and asked me to do a foreword to Keesing’s Selected Poems. Keesing, with the help of his death, was at last going to get ...
