I still have a little whiskey left and therefore a chance.

Christmas poem to a man in jail hello Bill Abbott: I appreciate your passing around my books in jail there, my poems and stories. if I can lighten the load for some of those guys with my books, fine. but literature, you know, is difficult for the average man to assimilate (and for the unaverage man too); I don't like most poetry, for example, so I write mine the way I like to read it.

Finally there is nothing here for death to take away.

Look, let me put it this way: with me, you’re number one and there isn’t even a number two.

purple does something strange to me

As we go on with our lives we tend to forget that the jails and the hospitals and the madhouses and the graveyards are packed.

i was born to hustle roses down the avenue of the dead.