oncewe were youngat thismachine. . .drinkingsmokingtypingit was a most splendidmiraculoustimestillisonly nowinstead ofmoving towardtimeit moves toward usmakes each word drill into thepaperclearfasthardfeeding aclosingspace.
she was hot, she was so hotI didn’t want anybody else to have her,and if I didn’t get home on timeshe’d be gone, and I couldn’t bear that-I’d go mad.…
at the quarterhorse meetat Hollywood Park around 5 p.m. if you are sitting atground level in thePavilion the track appearstobe above you and in the strangeshadow-sunlight the silksaresobright the colorislike…
here I am in the ground my mouth open and I can’t even say mama, andthe dogs run by and stop and pisson my stone; I get it allexcept the sunand my suit is…
lonely as a dry and used orchardspread over the earthfor use and surrender. shot down like an ex-pug sellingdailies on the corner. taken by tears like an aging chorus girlwho…
well, first Mae West diedand then George Raft,and Eddie G. Robinson’sbeen gonea long time,and Bogart and Gableand Grable,and Laurel andHardyand the Marx Brothers,all those Saturdayafternoonsat the moviesas a boyare gone…
George was lying in his trailer, flat on his back, watching a small portable T.V. Hisdinner dishes were undone, his breakfast dishes were undone, he needed a shave, and ashfrom…
some want it, I don’t want it, Iwant to do whatever it is I doand just do it.I don’t want to look into theadulating eye,shake the sweatingpalm.I think that whatever…
self-congratulatory nonsense as thefamous gather to applaud their seeminggreatnessyouwonder where the real ones arewhat giant cavehides themasthe deathly talentlessbow toaccoladesasthe fools arefooledagainyou wonder where the real ones areif there arereal…
he sat naked and drunk in a room of summernight, running the blade of the knifeunder his fingernails, smiling, thinkingof all the letters he had receivedtelling him thatthe way he…