#1973 #AmericanWriters #AtTerrorStreetAndAgonyWay #BurningInWaterDrowningInFlame
she reads to me from the New York… which I don’t buy, don’t know how they get in here, but it’s something about the Mafia one of the heads of the Mafia
we are gathered here now to bury her in this poem. she did not marry an unemployed wi… beat her every
She wasn’t really a cop, she was a clerk-cop. And she started coming in and telling me about a guy who wore a purple stick pin and was a “real gentleman.” “Well,” I’d ask, “how was old ...
welcome to my wormy hell. the music grinds off-key. fish eyes watch from the wall. this is where the last happy shot… fired.
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 ...
I used to know a dutchman in a Ph… he’d take 3 raw eggs in his beer, 71, still working, strong,
he came to the door one night wet… terrorized white cross-eyed tailless cat took him in and fed him and he sta… grew to trust me until a friend dr…
has been going on for some time. there is this young waitress where… at the racetrack. how are you doing today?” she asks… winning pretty good,” I reply.
drinking German beer and trying to come up with the immortal poem at 5 p.m. in the afternoon. but, ah, I’ve told the
she only fucks the ones she doesn’… to marry. to the others she says you’ve got to marry me. or maybe she just fucks the ones s…
my father was a practical man. he had an idea. you see, my son, he said, I can pay for this house in my lif… then it’s mine.
it’s strange when famous people di… whether they have fought the good… the bad one. it’s strange when famous people di… whether we like them or not
first they used to, he told me, gun and bomb the elephants, you could hear their screams over… but you flew high to bomb the peop… you never saw it,
Meanwhile, there was still Joyce, and her geraniums, and a couple of million if I could hang on. Joyce and the flies and the geraniums. I worked the night shift, 12 hours, and she pawed...
3 small boys run toward me blowing whistles and they scream you’re under arrest! you’re drunk!