Question and Answer, por Charles Bukowski | poemas, ensayos y cuentos en Poéticous

Charles Bukowski

Charles Bukowski

Question and Answer

he sat naked and drunk in a room of summer

night, running the blade of the knife

under his fingernails, smiling, thinking

of all the letters he had received

telling him that

the way he lived and wrote about

that—

it had kept them going when

all seemed

truly

hopeless.

#Americans #XXCentury

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Preferido o celebrado por...

Chactas

Cosette

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I was coming home from classes down Westview hill. I never had any books to carry. I passed my exams by listening to the class lectures and by guessing at the answers. I never had to cr...

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man mowing the lawn across the way from me

watch you walking with your machin… ah, you’re too stupid to be cut li… you’re too stupid to let anything… the girls won’t use their knives o… they don’t want to

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how come you’re not unlisted?

the men phone and ask me that. are you really Charles Bukowski the writer? they ask. I’m a sometimes writer, I say, most often I don’t do anything.

then there was the time in New Orleans I was living with a fat woman, Marie, in the French Quarter and I got very sick.