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A 4th of July in the early 30's | 3 | |
Without stress or agony | 9 | |
My close call | 12 | |
Clothes cost money | 13 | |
An easy way to die | 17 | |
We have hand guns around here | 19 | |
Making do | 20 | |
Rare indeed | 27 | |
The poet | 28 | |
Bolero | 31 | |
A winter memory | 34 | |
Living in a great big way | 36 | |
Then and now | 37 | |
How did they get their job? | 44 | |
Paper and people | 45 | |
Writer's block | 49 | |
Disorder and early sorrow | 51 | |
In this place | 54 | |
The uninitiated | 55 | |
Cicada | 57 | |
Never interrupt a writer at work | 58 | |
Oh my | 59 | |
Meeting them | 60 | |
No eulogies, please | 62 | |
Finality | 64 | |
The machinery of loss | 65 | |
Damsels of the night | 69 | |
Forewarned | 74 | |
She lost weight | 75 | |
Military surplus | 76 | |
A difficult woman | 79 | |
Talk | 81 | |
Where the action is real | 83 | |
Academy award? | 86 | |
Beach boys | 88 | |
I'm no good | 90 | |
Friend of the family | 92 | |
Solving a crime before it begins | 94 | |
Note for my wall | 96 | |
The wine that roared | 97 | |
2:07 a.m | 101 | |
A clean, well-lighted place | 105 | |
Do we really care? | 108 | |
For crying out loud | 111 | |
High school girls | 113 | |
Emergency | 115 | |
For a woman who might some day become a nun | 116 | |
Some people ask for it | 117 | |
Against the window pane | 119 | |
An answer to a day's worth of mail | 121 | |
New York, New York | 122 | |
The knife waltz | 125 | |
Dusty shoes | 126 | |
Vulgar poem | 128 | |
This one | 134 | |
The big lonely night | 140 | |
One a.m. | 145 | |
The curse | 147 | |
With his awful teeth | 149 | |
Golden boy | 151 | |
Surreal tangerines | 153 | |
Little magazines and poetry chapbooks | 155 | |
My buddy | 156 | |
Last Friday night | 158 | |
Open here | 160 | |
A name is nothing if the named is nothing | 161 | |
The stupidest thing I ever did | 163 | |
You can't make a lion out of a butterfly | 165 | |
I don't know about you but | 168 | |
It's a drag just breathing | 172 | |
A hard lesson | 175 | |
A conversation to remember | 177 | |
Picture show | 178 | |
He played first base | 179 | |
The suicide kid | 181 | |
Snake eyes and faulty screams | 183 | |
I fought them from the moment I saw light | 184 | |
Now, Ezra | 187 | |
Concession | 189 | |
It | 190 | |
Terror | 191 | |
My rosy ass | 193 | |
This is a bitter poem | 196 | |
Poem for nobody | 199 | |
Checkmate | 201 | |
The tide | 202 | |
To hell and back | 210 | |
Something's knocking at the door | 212 | |
Regardless | 214 | |
The dandy | 219 | |
I am a mole | 221 | |
Somebody else | 222 | |
IBM selectric | 224 | |
Why oh why and oh why not? | 227 | |
Movies | 228 | |
No luck at all | 229 | |
Good news | 232 | |
Bedpan nightmare | 234 | |
Robert | 237 | |
Private screening | 239 | |
As you slow down the mermaids look the other way | 241 | |
Something new | 243 | |
The swimming pool | 244 | |
The great writer | 246 | |
I used to think | 247 | |
From the department of health | 249 | |
Working out | 251 | |
My friend William Burroughs | 252 | |
A note upon starvation | 254 | |
Poem for my 70th birthday | 256 | |
You'll never know | 257 | |
Joe | 259 | |
Top gun | 263 | |
It's strange | 264 | |
Explosion | 266 | |
Small talk | 268 | |
Basic | 270 |
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Add Slouching Toward Nirvana, in this place there are the dead, the deadly and the dying. there is the cross, the builders of the cross and the burners of the cross. the pattern of my life forms like a cheap shadow on the wall before me. my love what is left of it, Slouching Toward Nirvana to the inventory that you are selling on WonderClubX
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Add Slouching Toward Nirvana, in this place there are the dead, the deadly and the dying. there is the cross, the builders of the cross and the burners of the cross. the pattern of my life forms like a cheap shadow on the wall before me. my love what is left of it, Slouching Toward Nirvana to your collection on WonderClub |