#Americans #XXCentury
So I was surprised when the phone rang a couple of nights later and it was Cassie. “What are you doing, Hank?” She gave me the address, it was either Westwood or West L. A. “I have plen...
Wednesday night found me at the airport waiting for Iris. I sat around and looked at the women. None of them—except for one or two—looked as good as Iris. There was something wrong with...
they go on writing pumping out poems— young boys and college professors wives who drink wine all afternoon while their husbands work,
the blazing shark wants my balls as I walk through the meat section looking for salami and cheese purple housewives
all the women all their kisses the different ways they love and talk and need. their ears they all have
you may not believe it but there are people who go through life with very little friction or
The next day was Saturday and Debra cooked us breakfast. “Are you coming antique hunting with us today?” We ate in silence for a while, then she said, “I liked your reading at The Lance...
Sunday, I am eating a grapefruit, church is over at the… Orthadox to the west. she is dark
Information has been received in this office indicating that you were arrested by the Los Angeles Police Department on March 12, 1969, on a drunk charge. In this connection, your atten...
That evening the phone rang. It was Mercedes. I had met her after giving a poetry reading at Venice Beach. She was about 28, fair body, pretty good legs, a blonde about 5~feet-5, a blue...
Then I was called down to personnel at the old Federal Build– ing. They let me sit the usual 45 minutes or hour and one half. The man walked me back to a desk. There sat this woman. She...
I was back in L.A. about a week and a half. It was night. The phone rang. It was Cecelia, she was sobbing. “Hank, Bill is dead. You’re the first one I’ve called.” “I’m so glad you came ...
the weather is hot on the back of… which is down at Finkelstein’s who is gifted with 3 balls but no heart, but you’ve got to un… when the bull goes down
death wants more death, and its we… I remember my father’s garage, how… I would brush the corpses of flies from the windows they thought were… their sticky, ugly, vibrant bodies
at high noon at a small college near the beach sober the sweat running down my arms a spot of sweat on the table