#AmericanWriters
the words have come and gone, I sit ill. the phone rings, the cats sleep. Linda vacuums. I am waiting to live,
being the German kid in the 20’s i… was difficult. there was much anti-German feeling… a carry-over from World War 1. gangs of kids chased me through th…
lonely as a dry and used orchard spread over the earth for use and surrender. shot down like an ex—pug selling dailies on the corner.
there are worse things than being alone but it often takes decades to realize this and most often
I even hear the mountains the way they laugh up and down their blue sides and down in the water the fish cry
this head like a saucer decorated with everything as lip to lip we hang in mechanical joy; my hands blaze with arias
I awaken about noon and go out to… in my old torn bathrobe. I’m hung over hair down in my eyes barefoot
I reached up into the top of the c… and took out a pair of blue pantie… and showed them to her and asked “are these yours?”
sway with me, everything sad— madmen in stone houses without doors, lepers steaming love and song frogs trying to figure
here comes the fishhead singing here comes the baked potato in dra… here comes nothing to do all day l… here comes another night of no sle… here comes the phone wringing the…
when God created love he didn’t he… when God created dogs He didn’t h… when God created plants that was a… when God created hate we had a sta… when God created me He created me
god I got the sad blue blues, this woman sat there and she said are you really Charles Bukowski?
I am a panther shut up and bellowi… cement walls, and I am angry at bl… evenings without ventilation and I am angry with you, and it wi… like a rose
he was 65, his wife was 66, had Alzheimer’s disease. he had cancer of the mouth. there were
the critics now have me drinking champagne and driving a BMW and also married to a socialite from
