#AmericanWriters
women don’t know how to love, she told me. you know how to love but women just want to leech.
Julio came by with his guitar and… latest song. Julio was famous, he wrote songs a… published books of little drawings… poems.
I didn’t see Lydia for a couple of days, although I did manage to phone her 6 or 7 times during that period. Then the weekend arrived. Her ex-husband, Gerald, always took the children o...
what’s bad about all this is watching people drinking coffee and waiting. I would
sway with me, everything sad— madmen in stone houses without doors, lepers steaming love and song frogs trying to figure
I’m big I suppose that’s why my women alwa… small but this 6 foot goddess who deals in real estate
I had just won $115 from the heads… was naked upon my bed listening to an opera by one of th… and had just gotten rid of a very… when there was a knock upon the wo…
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
It was hot that night at the reading, which was to be held at St. Mark’s Church. Tammie and I sat in what was used as the dressing room. Tammie found a full-length mirror leaning agains...
absolutely sesamoid said the skeleton shoving his chalky foot upon my desk, and that was it,
This babe in the grandstand with dyed red hair kept leaning her breasts against me and talking about Gardena poker parlors
I took the envelope home to my mother and handed it to her and walked into the bedroom. My bedroom. The best thing about the bedroom was the bed. I liked to stay in bed for hours, even ...
know. I know. they are limited, have different needs and concerns. but I watch and learn from them.
terror finally becomes almost bearable but never quite terror creeps like a cat crawls like a cat
my goldfish stares with watery eye… into the hemisphere of my sorrow; upon the thinnest of threads we hang together, hang hang hang