Monday, July 18, 2011

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."

Monday, July 4, 2011

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.