Invitation For Cheap Bukowski Nights

Poetry

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how is it that world is still up and running

earth still on its axis

moon on her regular rotations

with so many love stories ending without conclusion

with neither truth nor fiction to hand carry

how is it that sun remains so certain to rise every morning

when so many lovers roam naked with questions in their half burnt bodies

wondering if the fire was from a dream or if their rescued skin was a forever curse

how it is that flowers bloom

with so much violence that is in the slipping embrace of two lovers

V.P

It is a long story to describe or undescribe my adoration or not for Bukowski. I am not a fan nor I am not not a fan. Bottom line if you are a Bukowski fan or not give me some lines after a drink or two of whiskey. Tag #cheapbukowskinights or not. Bye

I loved you
like a man loves a wom­an he nev­er touch­es, on­ly
writes to, keeps lit­tle pho­to­graphs of. I would have
loved you more if I had sat in a small room rolling a
cig­a­rette and lis­tened to you piss in the bath­room,
but that didn’ hap­pen. your let­ters got sad­der.
your lovers be­trayed you. kid, I wrote back, all
lovers be­tray. it didn’ help. you said
you had a cry­ing bench and it was by a bridge and
the bridge was over a riv­er and you sat on the cry­ing
bench ev­ery night and wept for the lovers who had
hurt and for­got­ten you. I wrote back but nev­er
heard again. a friend wrote me of your sui­cide
3 or 4 months af­ter it hap­pened. if I had met you
I would prob­a­bly have been un­fair to you or you
to me. it was best like this.
Charles Bukows­ki

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