A Radio With Guts
it was on the 2nd floor on Coronado Street
I used to get drunk
and throw the radio through the window
while it was playing, and, of course,
it would break the glass in the window
and the radio would sit there on the roof
and I'd tell my woman,
"Ah, what a marvelous radio!"
the next morning I'd take the window
off the hinges
and carry it down the street
to the glass man
who would put in another pane.
I kept throwing that radio through the window
each time I got drunk
and it would sit there on the roof
a magic radio
a radio with guts,
and each morning I'd take the window
back to the glass man.
I don't remember how it ended exactly
though I do remember
we finally moved out.
there was a woman downstairs who worked in
the garden in her bathing suit,
she really dug with that trowel
and she put her behind up in the air
and I used to sit in the window
and watch the sun shine all over that thing
while the music played.
Charles Bukowski's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (A Radio With Guts by Charles Bukowski )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley
Did you read them?
- No number, gajanan mishra
- We Are Tourist, Aftab Alam
- Two Baldy Ladies, Neela Nath
- The Painter Rearranges the Mirrors (1415), Cole Swensen
- OUR STREETS, MOHAMMAD SKATI
- The Evolution of the Garden, Cole Swensen
- Dr Dalek, Stratis Havarti
- No legal bar, gajanan mishra
- Make believe, hasmukh amathalal
- Informed World, Tirupathi Chandrupatla