At night I closed my eyes and saw my bones threading the mud of my grave.
And what does the rain say at night in a small town, what does the rain have to say? Who walks beneath dripping melancholy branches listening to the rain? Who is there in the rain’s million-needled bl...
And the Hippos were boiled in their tanks!
And it's finally only in the woods you get that nostalgia for cities at last, you dream of long gray journeys to cities where soft evenings'll unfold like Paris but never seeing how sickening it will...
And here for the first time in my life I saw my beloved Mississippi River, dry in the summer haze, low water, with its big rank smell that smells like the raw body of America itself because it washes...
And he had a nice home in Ohio with wife, daughter, Christmas tree, two cars, garage, lawn, lawnmower, but he couldn't enjoy any of it because he really wasn't free. It was sadly true.
And for just a moment I had reached the point of ecstasy that I always wanted to reach, which was the complete step across chronological time into timeless shadows, and wonderment in the bleakness of...
And a bird who was on a crooked branch is suddenly gone without my even hearing him.
An art dies when it describes itself instead of life - when it turns from the expression of man's feelings in the void, to a mere description of the void.
All you want to do is run out there and get laid and get beat up and get screwed up and get old and sick and banged around by samsara, you fucking eternal meat of comeback you
All my other current friends were intellectuals––Chad the Nietzschean anthropologist, Carlo Marx and his nutty surrealist low-voiced serious staring talk, Old Bull Lee and his critical anti-everything...
All around me were the noise of the crazy gold-coast city. And this was my Hollywood career - this was my last night in Hollywood, and I was spreading mustard on my lap in back of a parking-lot john.
After all, a homeless man has reason to cry, everything in the world is pointed against him.
Wishing there was a Personal God in all this impersonal matter.
We all must admit that everything is fine and there's no need in the world to worry, and in fact we should realize what it would mean to us to UNDERSTAND that we're not REALLY worried about ANYTHING.
They were experimenting with narcoanalysis and found that Old Bull had seven separate personalities, each growing worse and worse on the way down, till finally he was a raving idiot and had to be rest...
Poor examples because of mechanical needs of typing, of the flow of river sounds, words, dark, leading to the future and attesting to the madness, hollowness, ring and roar of my mind which blessed or...
Besides which Lucille would never understand me because I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another till I drop.
Besides which Lucille wouldnever understand me because I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another till I drop. This is the night, what it does to...
I didn't feel that I was an American at all, with all that suburban ideal and sex repression and general dreary newspaper grey censorship of all our real human values...