A Following
the phone rang at 1:30 a. m. and it was a man from Denver: “Chinaski, you got a following in Denver…” “yeah?” “yeah, I got a magazine and I want some poems from you…”
Show Biz
I can’t have it And you can’t have it And we won’t Get it So don’t bet on it Or even think about It Just get out of bed Each morning Wash Shave Clothe
Shoes
when you’re young A pair of Female High-heeled shoes Just sitting Alone In the closet Can fire your Bones; When you’re old It’s just A pair of shoes Without Anybody In them And Just
For Jane: With All The Love I Had, Which Was Not Enough
I pick up the skirt, I pick up the sparkling beads In black, This thing that moved once Around flesh, And I call God a liar, I say anything that moved Like that Or
Rain Or Shine
the vultures at the zoo (all three of the) Sit very quietly in their Caged tree And below On the ground Are chunks of rotten meat. The vultures are over-full. Our taxes have fed
Out Of The Arm Of One Love
out of the arm of one love And into the arms of another I have been saved from dying on the cross By a lady who smokes pot Writes songs and stories And is
The Genius Of The Crowd
there is enough treachery, hatred violence absurdity in the average Human being to supply any given army on any given day And the best at murder are those who preach against it And the
Flophouse
you haven’t lived Until you’ve been in a Flophouse With nothing but one Light bulb And 56 men Squeezed together On cots With everybody Snoring At once And some of those Snores So Deep
Somebody
god I got the sad blue blues, This woman sat there and she Said Are you really Charles Bukowski? And I said forget that I do not feel good I’ve got the sad sads
Another Day
having the low down blues and going Into a restraunt to eat. You sit at a table. The waitress smiles at you. She’s dumpy. her ass is too big. She radiates kindess and symphaty.
Young In New Orleans
starving there, sitting around the bars, And at night walking the streets for hours, The moonlight always seemed fake To me, mabye it was, And in the French Quarter I watched The horses and
For The Foxes
don’t feel sorry for me. I am a competent, Satisfied human being. Be sorry for the others Who Fidget Complain Who Constantly Rearrange their Lives Like Furniture. Juggling mates And Attitudes Their Confusion is
For Jane
225 days under grass And you know more than I. They have long taken your blood, You are a dry stick in a basket. Is this how it works? In this room The hours
Cause And Effect
the best often die by their own hand Just to get away, And those left behind Can never quite understand Why anybody Would ever want to Get away From Them
Love & Fame & Death
it sits outside my window now Like and old woman going to market; It sits and watches me, It sweats nevously Through wire and fog and dog-bark Until suddenly I slam the screen with