having the flu and with nothing else to do

by Charles Bukowski

"I read a book about John Dos Passos and according to
the book once radical-communist
John ended up in the Hollywood Hills living off investments
and reading the
Wall Street Journal

this seems to happen all too often.

what hardly ever happens is
a man going from being a young conservative to becoming an
old wild-ass radical

however:
young conservatives always seem to become old
conservatives.
it's a kind of lifelong mental vapor-lock.

but when a young radical ends up an
old radical
the critics
and the conservatives
treat him as if he escaped from a mental
institution.

such is our politics and you can have itall.

keep it.

sail it up your

ass."

independence day

Magic sparks and shimmers

across the sky

it'd take a fool to try

to hold that hot flame

captured until it's cold.

A dead cylinder

in the palm of your hand,

to capture the glowing magic of night

and hold it in a jar,

only to wake up and realize

that you killed it dead.

What was once a luminous mystery

now a sterile tangle of legs and feelers.

If my thoughts of you

were like locks of hair,

I'd wind them up in my fingers

until the golden tendrils

became so curled and kinked

that it hurt to be turned,

I couldn't let go.

I am the berry plump and juicy,

ready to be picked.

You are the thorn, sharp and hidden,

ready to prick.

Now it's independence day,

so drop away

drop away.

city blocks

East coast women

hairy beast women

study Lady Brett,

decide if she's a bitch.

Making a living,

these days too many

reaching dead hands

to the numb wind.

Yapping maw of femininity

screeches, scrawls

winter, eternity

lives all close and crowded.