Charles Bukowski

(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994 / Andernach)

Here I Am ... - Poem by Charles Bukowski

drunk again at 3 a.m. at the end of my 2nd bottle
of wine, I have typed from a dozen to 15 pages of
poesy
an old man
maddened for the flesh of young girls in this
dwindling twilight
liver gone
kidneys going
pancrea pooped
top-floor blood pressure


Comments about Here I Am ... by Charles Bukowski

  • (1/19/2017 7:36:00 AM)

    Whole Poem
    drunk again at 3 a.m. at the end of my 2nd bottle
    of wine, I have typed from a dozen to 15 pages of
    poesy
    an old man
    maddened for the flesh of young girls in this
    dwindling twilight
    liver gone
    kidneys going
    pancrea pooped
    top-floor blood pressure

    while all the fear of the wasted years
    laughs between my toes
    no woman will live with me
    no Florence Nightingale to watch the
    Johnny Carson show with

    if I have a stroke I will lay here for six
    days, my three cats hungrily ripping the flesh
    from my elbows, wrists, head

    the radio playing classical music...

    I promised myself never to write old man poems
    but this one's funny, you see, excusable, be-
    cause I've long gone past using myself and there's
    still more left
    here at 3 a.m. I am going to take this sheet from
    the typer
    pour another glass and
    insert
    make love to the fresh new whiteness

    maybe get lucky
    again

    first for
    me

    later
    for you.
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Poem Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003



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