some say we should keep personal r
poem,
stay abstract, and there is some r
but jezus;
twelve poems gone and I don’t keep

at high noon
at a small college near the beach
sober
the sweat running down my arms
a spot of sweat on the table

at their best, there is gentleness
some understanding and, at times,
courage
but all in all it is a mass, a glo
have too much.

god I got the sad blue blues,
this woman sat there and she
said
are you really Charles
Bukowski?

either peace or happiness,
let it enfold you
when I was a young man
I felt these things were
dumb, unsophisticated.

he sat naked and drunk in a room o
night, running the blade of the kn
under his fingernails, smiling, th
of all the letters he had received
telling him that

the words have come and gone,
I sit ill.
the phone rings, the cats sleep.
Linda vacuums.
I am waiting to live,

I am in this low—slung sports car
painted a deep, rich yellow
driving under an Italian sun.
I have a British accent.
I’m wearing dark shades

cimen altinda gecen 225 gunden son
kanini emip bitireli epey oldu, ar
bu isler boyle mi oluyor?
bu odada hala ask saatlerinin golg
birakip gittiginde asagi yukari he

if you’re going to try, go all the
way.
otherwise, don’t even start.
if you’re going to try, go all the
way.