Poeticous Logo
en
English Español Français Italiano
Charles Bukowski

Charles Bukowski

his wife, the painter

There are sketches on the walls of men and women and ducks,
and outside a large green bus swerves through traffic like
insanity sprung from a waving line; Turgenev, Turgenev,
says the radio, and Jane Austin, Jane Austin, too.
“I am going to do her portrait on the 28th, while you are
at work.”

#1993 #AmericanWriters #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned

Other works by Charles Bukowski...
the great slob

I was always a natural slob I liked to lay upon the bed in undershirt (stained, of course) (and with cigarette holes)
 1
meanwhile

neither does this mean the dead are at the door begging bread before
Women: 89

Three or four days later I found her note and phoned Debra. She said, “Come on over.” She gave me the directions to Playa del Rey and I drove over. She had a small rented house with a f...
the nurses

at the hospital that I have been going to the nurses seem overweight. they are bulky in their
prayer in bad weather

by God, I don’t know what to do. they’re so nice to have around. they have a way of playing with the balls
 2
Hemingway Never Did This

I read that he lost a suitcase ful… train and that they never were rec… I can’t match the agony of this but the other night I wrote a 3—pa… upon this computer
 6
Post Office. Chapter III: 15

They had me in the counselor’s office in one of the back rooms of the second floor. “Let me see how you look, Chinaski.” He looked at me. “All right, Mr. Chinaski, we’d like to know whe...
Post Office. Chapter IV: 2

The track had moved down the coast a hundred miles or so. I kept paying the rent on my apartment in town, got in my car and drove down. Once or twice a week I would drive back to the ap...
eating my senior citizen’s dinner at the Sizzler

between 2 and 5 p.m. any day and a… Wednesday, it’s 20% off for us old dogs approaching the sunset… it’s strange to be old and not fee… old
longshot

she’s not for you, man, she’s not your type, she’s erased she’s been used she’s got all the wrong
Women: 65

Back in L.A., there was almost a week of peace. Then the phone rang. It was the owner of a Manhattan Beach nightclub, Marty Seavers. I had read there a couple of times before. The club ...
my old man

16 years old during the depression I’d come home drunk and all my clothing— shorts, shirts, stockings—
hug the dark

turmoil is the god madness is the god permanent living peace is permanent living death. agony can kill
how come you’re not unlisted?

the men phone and ask me that. are you really Charles Bukowski the writer? they ask. I’m a sometimes writer, I say, most often I don’t do anything.
Crucifix in a Deathhand

yes, they begin out in a willow, I… the starch mountains begin out in… and keep right on going without re… pumas and nectarines somehow these mountains are like



Top