slipping keenly into bright ashes, target of vanilla tears your sure body lit candles for men on dark nights, and now your night is darker than the candle’s reach and we will forget you, somewhat, and it is not kind but real bodies are nearer and as the worms pant for your bones, I would so like to tell you that this happens to bears and elephants to tyrants and heroes and ants and frogs, still, you brought us something, some type of small victory, and for this I say: good and let us grieve no more; like a flower dried and thrown away, we forget, we remember, we wait. child, child, child, I raise my drink a full minute and smile.
This is a poem that Bukowski wrote shortly after Marilyn Monroe's death. You can find it one of his best books of poetry called Burning in Water Drowning in Flame, Selected Poems 1955-1973
Another day another great poem by Hank🤌🏿✨ Thank you Poetic Outlaws for existing
for people who say he wrote prose no poetry, they should read this