Young In New Orleans (Charles Bukowski Poem)
starving there, sitting around the bars, and at night walking the streets for hours, the moonlight always seemed fake to ...
starving there, sitting around the bars, and at night walking the streets for hours, the moonlight always seemed fake to ...
drunk again at 3 a.m. at the end of my 2nd bottle of wine, I have typed from a dozen ...
I see you drinking at a fountain with tiny blue hands, no, your hands are not tiny they are small, ...
I can make out the rigging of a schooner a mile off; I can count the new cones on the ...
Here is a coast; here is a harbor; here, after a meager diet of horizon, is some scenery: impractically shaped ...
At four o'clock in the gun-metal blue dark we hear the first crow of the first cock just below the ...
From narrow provinces of fish and bread and tea, home of the long tides where the bay leaves the sea ...
Neruda's Hat On a day when weather stole every breeze, Pablo told her he kept bits of his poems tucked ...
As evening falls, The walls grow luminous and warm, the walls Tremble and glow with the lives within them moving, ...
He, in the room above, grown old and tired, She, in the room below-his floor her ceiling- Pursue their separate ...
Well, as you say, we live for small horizons: We move in crowds, we flow and talk together, Seeing so ...
Well,-it was two days after my husband died- Two days! And the earth still raw above him. And I was ...
Snow falls. The sky is grey, and sullenly glares With purple lights in the canyoned street. The fiery sign on ...
As evening falls, And the yellow lights leap one by one Along high walls; And along black streets that glisten ...
Fanfare of northwest wind, a bluejay wind announces autumn, and the equinox rolls back blue bays to a far afternoon. ...
Beloved, let us once more praise the rain. Let us discover some new alphabet, For this, the often praised; and ...
He Fill your bowl with roses: the bowl, too, have of crystal. Sit at the western window. Take the sun ...
Doleful was the land, Dull on, every side, Neither soft n'or grand, Barren, bleak, and wide; Nothing look'd with love; ...
Through grass, through amber'd cornfields, our slow Stream-- Fringed with its flags and reeds and rushes tall, And Meadowsweet, the ...
Adieu to Belashanny! where I was bred and born; Go where I may, I'll think of you, as sure as ...
See how a Seed, which Autumn flung down, And through the Winter neglected lay, Uncoils two little green leaves and ...
A quay with vessels moored Thomas To India! Yea, here I may take ship; From here the courses go over ...
Water ruffled and speckled by galloping wind Which puffs and spurts it into tiny pashing breaks Dashed with lemon-yellow afternoon ...
Lo giorno se n'andava, e l'aere bruno toglieva li animai che sono in terra da le fatiche loro; e io ...
Per me si va ne la citt? dolente, per me si va ne l'etterno dolore, per me si va tra ...
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 ...
Something strange is creeping across me. La Celestina has only to warble the first few bars Of "I Thought about ...
The first of the undecoded messages read: "Popeye sits in thunder, Unthought of. From that shoebox of an apartment, From ...
Kind of empty in the way it sees everything, the earth gets to its feet andsalutes the sky. More of ...
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