It's Sunday morning replete with a mild Seagrams hangover. Upon checking the mail I spy a P.O. piece featuring one of my faves: Henry Chinaski. What luck! To do him honor, I fix myself a coffee, the last of the V.O., and fire up the roach from last night. It could only be made better if that slow, gravelly voice read the poem himself.
Some days Buk speaks more clearly than others.
The pendulum gauge of global madness seems to need to swing very far in one direction, before swinging back to some kind of sanity.
One thing we know is the pendulum never stops.
AS WE KNOW, GLOBAL SANITY WILL NOT HAPPEN IN OUR LIFETIME. THE 'PENDULUM' SWINGS VERY SLOWLY.
PEOPLE LIKE US, AT LEAST HAVE CONSCIOUSNESS WHICH HELPs A LOT.
When poetry is easily felt like this one.
It's Sunday morning replete with a mild Seagrams hangover. Upon checking the mail I spy a P.O. piece featuring one of my faves: Henry Chinaski. What luck! To do him honor, I fix myself a coffee, the last of the V.O., and fire up the roach from last night. It could only be made better if that slow, gravelly voice read the poem himself.
Moar Bukowski!
Thanks.
The tenderness of Bukowski slays me.
So good. Thank you.
Loving reading your selections here. Thank you!
It seems like we are what is being taken; I can’t hold on to what I think I’m holding. These things slip away like the memories of my dreams.
I love Bukowski...this is a favorite:beautiful,tender,so real.I've always liked his grittiness...thank you so much for sharing...
The Apostel Paul, Rembrandt, Denise Levertov: love. Bukowski: love. When it comes to words that really matter, we are touched, moved. By love.
Favorite.