Crucifix In A Deathhand (Charles Bukowski Poems)
yes, they begin out in a willow, I think the starch mountains begin out in the willow and keep right ...
yes, they begin out in a willow, I think the starch mountains begin out in the willow and keep right ...
this South American up here on a Gugg walked in with his whore and she sat on the edge of ...
don't ever get the idea I am a poet; you can see me at the racetrack any day half drunk ...
The flies are angry bits of life; why are they so angry?it seems they want more,it seems almost as if ...
O lord, he said, Japanese women, real women, they have not forgotten, bowing and smiling closing the wounds men have ...
at one stage in my lifeI met a man who claimed to havevisited Pound at St. Elizabeth's.then I met a ...
I was always a natural slobI liked to lay upon the bedin undershirt (stained, ofcourse) (and with cigaretteholes)shoes offbeer bottle ...
we like to shower afterwards (I like the water hotter than she) and her face is always soft and peaceful ...
starving there, sitting around the bars, and at night walking the streets for hours, the moonlight always seemed fake to ...
George was lying in his trailer, flat on his back, watching a small portable T.V. His dinner dishes were undone, ...
Cass was the youngest and most beautiful of 5 sisters. Cass was the most beautiful girl in town. 1/2 Indian ...
she's young, she said, but look at me, I have pretty ankles, and look at my wrists, I have pretty ...
I see you drinking at a fountain with tiny blue hands, no, your hands are not tiny they are small, ...
either peace or happiness, let it enfold you when i was a young man I felt these things were dumb,unsophisticated. ...
I was fairly drunk when it began and I took out my bottle and used it along the way. I ...
we have everything and we have nothing and some men do it in churches and some men do it by ...
I say to my woman, "Jeffers was a great poet. think of a title like Be Angry At The Sun. ...
this time has finished me. I feel like the German troops whipped by snow and the communists walking bent with ...
each man must realize that it can all disappear very quickly: the cat, the woman, the job, the front tire, ...
There are sketches on the walls of men and women and ducks, and outside a large green bus swerves through ...
at high noon at a small college near the beach sober the sweat running down my arms a spot of ...
having the low down blues and going into a restraunt to eat. you sit at a table. the waitress smiles ...
a symphony orchestra. there is a thunderstorm, they are playing a Wagner overture and the people leave their seats under ...
the flesh covers the bone and they put a mind in there and sometimes a soul, and the women break ...
good weather is like good women- it doesn't always happen and when it does it doesn't always last. man is ...
not much chance, completely cut loose from purpose, he was a young man riding a bus through North Carolina on ...
it was on the 2nd floor on Coronado Street I used to get drunk and throw the radio through the ...
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