View From the Screen, di Charles Bukowski

Charles Bukowski

View From the Screen

I cross the room

to the last wall

the last window

the last pink sun

with its arms around the world

with its arms around me

I hear the death-whisper of the heron

the bone-thoughts of sea-things

that are almost rock;

this screen caved like a soul

and scrawled with flies,

my tensions and damnations

are those of a pig,

pink sun pink sun

I hate your holiness

crawling your gilded cross of life

as my fingers and feet and face

come down to this

sleeping with the whore of your fancy wife

you must some day die for nothing

as I

have lived.

#Americans #XXCentury #1973 #BurningInWaterDrowningInFlame #CrucifixInADeathhand

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