without plumbing, without heat.

I climbed off the park bench to engage the giants of

literature in battle.

I was beaten in alleys, robbed.

I searched the cities for sanity.

I read great books and they made me sleepy.

I starved in rooms fat with rats.

my parents were in shame of me.

the beautiful ladies thought me ugly.

I climbed off the park bench to engage the giants of

literature in battle.

the world considered me insane.

I slept in deserted graveyards.

I sat in bars through the mornings and into the night

and back into morning.

I engaged the giants of literature.

all my work came back.

one editor wrote, “what is this stuff?”

I worked the factories, the warehouses.

I got married and divorced.

I was 40 years old when my first thin pamphlet of poems was

published.

it wasn’t that good.

at the age of 50 I decided to become a professional writer.

I earned $980 the first year.

I lived on a candy bar a day.

I was engaging the giants of literature.

the ladies descended like locusts.

I threw people off my front porch.

I was engaging the giants.

the giants were not aware of this.

only I was aware.

I climbed off the park bench to engage the giants of

literature.

I didn’t think that they were all that good.

tell me, do you?

going away

down through the last door,

past the music,

past the dancing girls,

down through the last hall

past the last New Year

and the last hurrah!

past the flight of the

hummingbird,

past the last kiss,

the last flux and flow,

the last new day,

the last night’s sleep,

the last sweet orange,

the last war,

past the last

last

word.

stag

this guy pretended to be a French painter

and I sat on a couch with a beer

then 2 girls walked in

while he

the painter

was asleep in a chair

drunk

one of the girls

took his cock out and stroked it

while the other one

painted it

(on canvas, that is)

and then he awakened and the girls began to

strip down

and the painter had the 2 girls and this one

cock, and he did it all

while they did it

all

and sometimes it was difficult to

separate the 3 bodies

and I sat there while the camera focused

and I thought, hell, we’re all

crazy,

and when it was all over

everybody got dressed and I was

introduced to the

actors. (actresses too, pardon me,

girls.)

the guy with the cock was trying to log enough hours

to be a commercial airline

pilot.

one of the girls—the young looking one—

had a girl in college

the other one wanted to go to the Orient and

study something or

other.

the cameraman

poured the whiskey around

and we sat there laughing and enjoying

each other.

they made their living with stag films

and it was a little studio room

#228

someplace in Hollywood