Imaginative Qualities of Actual Things - pg. 104

She's one of those bright, lovely, intelligent people who should have never been born.

Imaginative Qualities of Actual Things - pg. 101

Not that she disliked the poems, she simply didn't remember them as a kind of genre poem she had read before; that seems fair enough, and certainly possible, considering the book. I know this book and it had those poems in it, all about Being Alive In The Fresh Air And Living With Your Woman And Eating Good Food And Smoking Pot And Watching Your Woman Getting Dinner Ready The Way Her Simple Skirt Molds Itself To Her Full Hips Outside The Voices Of The Children As The Evening Comes Down On The Mountains Fuck You America You Can't Change This. With a lot of Mexican friends (Spanish friends that is, in the great Southwest), and Indians drinking tokay and muscatel. Plenty of battered, dusty VW buses in evidence too. But the poet had gone away, gone to the Coast, I think.

Imaginative Qualities of Actual Things - pg. 91

Bunny was studying psychology. Along came Guy, cap over his eye, drunk and disorderly. She was a mark for him. Oh, she'd done a little wild-oat sowing in college... But mark of doom was not on them. I don't know how she met Guy, but we'll imagine it was in Provincetown, after Labor Day. The dunes, the sea, the wind. Guy told her about his dreams of death and within the hour she was blowing him. Guy's penis kept getting soft and she thought she was doing something wrong. That was even better - she would have to work, hard, to give Guy all her love and understanding. This isn't heartless of me, though it may seem so. These are people born to decent families, the fact of their helplessness is a human fact, i.e., don't tell me that you have to know what happened to Guy in the garage one day? Or, what secret terrors Bunny was exposed to when she was eleven, ....