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rKf's avatar

Whenever I’m feeling good, spirits soaring, there is no one like Bukowski to bring me down, pry open my unknowing brain, drain the joy, leave me wondering why I’m so upbeat today. Read it twice, three times, I say. There’s nothing like a swig of downer to start my day. I sit, wondering, what draws me to the misery? A balancing? Too much yin or not enough yang? It stirs my waters, I guess, it gives me pause, then, somehow like code liver oil performs a magic I don’t understand.

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Lisa B. Martin    zihuawriter's avatar

Blood. Guts. Poetry. LIFE.

C.B. tells it like it (still) is.

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