The Most Beautiful Woman In Town (Charles Bukowski Poem)
Cass was the youngest and most beautiful of 5 sisters. Cass was the most beautiful girl in town. 1/2 Indian ...
Cass was the youngest and most beautiful of 5 sisters. Cass was the most beautiful girl in town. 1/2 Indian ...
the goldfish sing all night with guitars, and the whores go down with the stars, the whores go down with ...
Half squatter, half tenant (no rent)- a sort of inheritance; white, in your thirties now, and supposed to supply me ...
I A washing hangs upon the line, but it's not mine. None of the things that I can see belong ...
I can make out the rigging of a schooner a mile off; I can count the new cones on the ...
On the fair green hills of Rio There grows a fearful stain: The poor who come to Rio And can't ...
The rain has stopped. The waterfall will roar like that all night. I have come out to take a walk ...
Unfunny uncles who insist in trying on a lady's hat, --oh, even if the joke falls flat, we share your ...
For Louise Crane In your next letter I wish you'd say where you are going and what you are doing; ...
I imagine Nice and topless beaches, women smoking and reading novels in the sun. I pretend I am comfortable undressing ...
I don't know man trust is a precious thing a kind of humility Offer it to a snake and get ...
This is going to cost you. If you really want to hear a country fiddle, you have to listen hard, ...
Because it all just breaks apart, and the pieces scatter and rearrange without much fanfare or notice. Because you can't ...
Some days I am Ana's teacher, some days she is mine. This morning, we look through her kitchen window, the ...
These little Songs, Found here and there, Floating in air By forest and lea, Or hill-side heather, In houses and ...
A quay with vessels moored Thomas To India! Yea, here I may take ship; From here the courses go over ...
I The bitterness. the misery, the wretchedness of childhood Put me out of love with God. I can't believe in ...
Long ago in a poultry yard One dull November morn, Beneath a motherly soft wing A little goose was born. ...
I have a life that did not become, that turned aside and stopped, astonished: I hold it in me like ...
Just when I thought there wasn't room enough for another thought in my head, I had this great idea-- call ...
As Parmigianino did it, the right hand Bigger than the head, thrust at the viewer And swerving easily away, as ...
Orpheus liked the glad personal quality Of the things beneath the sky. Of course, Eurydice was a part Of this. ...
The first of the undecoded messages read: "Popeye sits in thunder, Unthought of. From that shoebox of an apartment, From ...
Celebrate our anniversary - can't you see tonight the snowy night of our first winter comes back again in every ...
On a roof in the Old City Laundry hanging in the late afternoon sunlight: The white sheet of a woman ...
The little park planted in memory of a boy who fell in the war begins to resemble him as he ...
My child wafts peace. When I lean over him, It is not just the smell of soap. All the people ...
Hebrew writing and Arabic writing go from east to west, Latin writing, from west to east. Languages are like cats: ...
This is the lair of the landlady She is a raw voice loose in the rooms beneath me. the continuous ...
In the burned house I am eating breakfast. You understand: there is no house, there is no breakfast, yet here ...
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