Bukowski's hole in the wall,
The literal one: I saw
There were probably many more
That I never saw
...
I relished Winter's cold, dry, crisping clime
The hard ground; the invigorating frost
Encouraged my hands in their work. I find
More joy coming in from frigid chaos
...
A mother's love the walls that guard
Her stern rebukes the cannon ports
Her watchful eye a barbican
A mother is a fort
...
This is the Common Age
Writ on vellum of human flesh
Of the millions dead,
dried and cured by the quicklime
...
In progress)
Bukowski's Holes
Bukowski's hole in the wall,
The literal one: I saw
There were probably many more
That I never saw
But I know He never fixed any
Unlike Walt Disney
With thousands of automatons
Fixing every hole
In that God-forsaken Land
The holes make life amusing
The holes are an empty pain
Fix them if you like
Or show them to the world