“There ain’t much time left, you’re born out of this insane abyss and you’re going to fall back into it, so while you’re alive you might as well show your bare ass.”
This summer just won’t let up. Jim Carroll, author of the autobiographical Basketball Diaries, has died in his home at the age of 60, of a heart attack. With 6 books of poetry, 2 memoirs, 6 spoken-word records, and 6 great new wave-punk albums to his credit, Carroll’s creative output remained relentless up until his death, at the time of which he’d been working on the unfinished novel, Petting Zoo.
Carroll, and the work we never got to see, will be horribly missed.
One of “11 Trains,” from his first book (published when he was 16), Organic Trains:
7th Train (for POETRY)
carmel candy into a glove
melt it on and fit my love
if the world is T.N.T.
at least my you is wearing me
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