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Despite murder, despite death, I still love Lulu. She was a sweet bonobo. Before the axe, and after. Lulu, Barrett, the world of capuchins and chickens: all ghouls these days. And regret. Maybe if I'd read less Hemingway? Or taught Lulu of the literal tra
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20010
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On my 52nd birthday I began drinking whiskey at a little past midnight. I don’t usually do that but I felt like getting drunk and writing poems. So here I am pounding away on this machine at 3 o’clock in the morning. I've finished the last of the James
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95845
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Art books, paintings, antique chairs, marble tables, full length gold gilded mirrors, oriental rugs, tapestries, a Louis XVI painted French armoire, a wrought iron Deco coffee table, flat ware, silver flasks, mantel lamps, iron gates, a silk settee, theat
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63077
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The monkey did not live for long. He’d lost interest in the stuffed dog pretty much right away. The farther away the shuttle, the more garbled and fanciful the sign language the monkey had been taught became.
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