Poeticous Logo
en
English Español Français Italiano
Charles Bukowski

Charles Bukowski

secret laughter
the lair of the hunted is
hidden in the last place
you’d ever look
and even if you find it
you won’t believe
it’s really there
in much the same way
as the average person
will not believe a great painting.

#AmericanWriters #1993 #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned

Enjoyed this read? Treat us to a coffee!.
Your help allows us to exist.
Other works by Charles Bukowski...
the mockingbird

the mockingbird had been following… all summer mocking mocking mocking teasing and cocksure; the cat crawled under rockers on p…
 2
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.
Ham on Rye: 41

R.O.T.C. kept me away from sports while the other guys practiced every day. They made the school teams, won their letters and got the girls. My days were spent mostly marching around in...
tired in the afterdusk

smoking a cigarette and noting a m… flattened out against the wall and died as organ music from centuries back… my black radio
 1
my special craving

what is it about lobsters and crab… those white-pink shells that always make me hungry just looking at them there in the butcher’s display case
fan letter

I been readin’ you for a long time… I just put Billy Boy to bed, he got 7 mean ticks from somewhere… I got 2, my husband, Benny, he got 3.
Post Office. Chapter V: 4

This is advance notice that it is proposed to remove you from the Postal Service or to take such other disciplinary action as may be determined to be appropriate. The proposed action is...
Goading the Muse

this man used to be an interesting writer, he was able to say brisk and refreshing things. at the time
my atomic stockpile

cleaned my place the other day first time in ten years and found 100 rejected poems: fastened them all to a clipboard much bad reading.
The Secret of my Endurance

I still get letters in the mail, m… men in tiny rooms with factory job… living with whores or no woman at… booze and madness. Most of their letters are on lined…
 2
The Intellectual

she writes continually like a long nozzle spraying the air,
Machineguns Towers & Timeclocks

I feel gypped by dunces as if reality were the property of little men with luck and a headstart, and I sit in the cold
Flophouse

you haven’t lived until you’ve been in a flophouse with nothing but one light bulb
Women: 15

Lydia phoned me in the morning. “Whenever you get drunk,” she said, “I’m going out dancing. I went to the Red Umbrella last night and I asked men to dance with me. A woman has a right t...
Like All The Years Wasted

yesterday drunken Alice gave me a jar of fig jam and today she whistles



Top