Charles Bukowski (16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994 / Andernach)

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small conversation in the afternoon with John Fante

he said, "I was working in Hollywood when Faulkner was
working in Hollywood and he was
the worst: he was too drunk to stand up at the
end of the afternoon and so I had to help him
into a taxi
day after day after day.

"but when he left Hollywood, I stayed on, and while I
didn't drink like that maybe I should have, I might have
had the guts then to follow him and get the hell out of
there."

I told him, "you write as well as
Faulkner.:

"you mean that?" he asked from the hospital
bed, smiling.

Charles Bukowski
Submitted: Friday, January 03, 2003


Read poems about / on: smile, work

Comments about this poem (small conversation in the afternoon with John Fante by Charles Bukowski )

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  • Sam Aleks (5/15/2012 12:18:00 AM)

    Fante was Bukowski's god.

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  • Jeff Bearden (10/4/2006 4:24:00 PM)

    Fante, the greatest, the gonest!

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