Charles Bukowski

(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994 / Andernach)

It's Ours - Poem by Charles Bukowski

there is always that space there
just before they get to us
that space
that fine relaxer
the breather
while say
flopping on a bed
thinking of nothing
or say
pouring a glass of water from the
spigot
while entranced by
nothing

that
gentle pure
space

it's worth

centuries of
existence

say

just to scratch your neck
while looking out the window at
a bare branch

that space
there
before they get to us
ensures
that
when they do
they won't
get it all

ever.


Anonymous submission.


Comments about It's Ours by Charles Bukowski

  • Rookie Robert Quilter (12/12/2008 10:08:00 AM)

    Lovely, original thought.So that moment, and the fact we can experience makes us different from the rest of the animals. (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: water



Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 1, 2004



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