An Almost Made Up Poem (Charles Bukowski Poem)
I see you drinking at a fountain with tiny blue hands, no, your hands are not tiny they are small, ...
I see you drinking at a fountain with tiny blue hands, no, your hands are not tiny they are small, ...
Half squatter, half tenant (no rent)- a sort of inheritance; white, in your thirties now, and supposed to supply me ...
About the size of an old-style dollar bill, American or Canadian, mostly the same whites, gray greens, and steel grays ...
From narrow provinces of fish and bread and tea, home of the long tides where the bay leaves the sea ...
I caught a tremendous fish and held him beside the boat half out of water, with my hook fast in ...
September rain falls on the house. In the failing light, the old grandmother sits in the kitchen with the child ...
Well, as you say, we live for small horizons: We move in crowds, we flow and talk together, Seeing so ...
Of what she said to me that night-no matter. The strange thing came next day. My brain was full of ...
Well,-it was two days after my husband died- Two days! And the earth still raw above him. And I was ...
'Number four-the girl who died on the table- The girl with golden hair-' The purpling body lies on the polished ...
She turned her head on the pillow, and cried once more. And drawing a shaken breath, and closing her eyes, ...
Midnight; bells toll, and along the cloud-high towers The golden lights go out . . . The yellow windows darken, ...
The round red sun heaves darkly out of the sea. The walls and towers are warmed and gleam. Sounds go ...
See, as the carver carves a rose, A wing, a toad, a serpent's eye, In cruel granite, to disclose The ...
The yard half a yard, half a lake blue as a corpse. The lake will tell things you long to ...
In early morning twilight, raw and chill, Damp vapours brooding on the barren hill, Through miles of mire in steady ...
A quay with vessels moored Thomas To India! Yea, here I may take ship; From here the courses go over ...
Come, thrust your hands in the warm earth And feel her strength through all your veins; Breathe her full odors, ...
Long ago in a poultry yard One dull November morn, Beneath a motherly soft wing A little goose was born. ...
Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita mi ritrovai per una selva oscura ch? la diritta via era smarrita . ...
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. ...
I have enough treasures from the past to last me longer than I need, or want. You know as well ...
Not under foreign skies Nor under foreign wings protected - I shared all this with my own people There, where ...
Half the people in the world love the other half, half the people hate the other half. Must I because ...
'Not by the justice that my father spurn'd, Not for the thousands whom my father slew, Altars unfed and temples ...
1 Faster, faster, 2 O Circe, Goddess, 3 Let the wild, thronging train 4 The bright procession 5 Of eddying ...
Glion?--Ah, twenty years, it cuts All meaning from a name! White houses prank where once were huts. Glion, but not ...
The Youth Faster, faster, O Circe, Goddess, Let the wild, thronging train The bright procession Of eddying forms, Sweep through ...
What is it to grow old? Is it to lose the glory of the form, The lustre of the eye? ...
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