the words have come and gone,
I sit ill.
the phone rings, the cats sleep.
Linda vacuums.
I am waiting to live,
waiting to die.
I wish I could ring in some bravery.
it’s a lousy fix
but the tree outside doesn’t know:
I watch it moving with the wind
in the late afternoon sun.
there’s nothing to declare here,
just a waiting.
each faces it alone.
Oh, I was once young,
Oh, I was once unbelievably

from Transit magazine, 1994


  • 0
  • 1
Login to comment...

Liked or faved by...

Book Reload

Other works by Charles Bukowski...

Some poets who follow Charles Bukowski...

Duvi Gallardo Yuanyuan Jiang Aleli v Hugo Vlad L Andrew J. Thomas