Charles Bukowski Poems

don't undress my love
you might find a mannequin:
don't undress the mannequin
you might find
...

it
takes
a lot of
...

there is always that space there
just before they get to us
that space
that fine relaxer
...

poetry readings have to be some of the saddest
damned things ever,
the gathering of the clansmen and clanladies,
...

the words have come and gone,
I sit ill.
the phone rings, the cats sleep.
Linda vacuums.
...

this fear of being what they are:
dead.

at least they are not out on the street, they
...

Van Gogh cut off his ear
gave it to a
prostitute
who flung it away in
...

stuck in the rain on the freeway, 6:15 p.m.,
these are the lucky ones, these are the
dutifully employed, most with their radios on as loud
as possible as they try not to think or remember.
...

the critics now have me
drinking champagne and
driving a BMW
and also married to a
...

almost dawn
blackbirds on the telephone wire
waiting
as I eat yesterday's
...