Come on In! - Charles Bukowski [0]
These poems are part of an archive of unpublished work that Charles Bukowski left to be published after his death.
Grateful acknowledgment is made to John Martin, who edited these poems.
contents
I live near the
slaughterhouse
and am ill
with thriving.
come on in!
nothing but a scarf
literary chitchat
this machine is a fountain
200 years
residue
Coronado Street: 1954
a vision
cut-rate drugstore: 4:30 p.m.
you can’t tell a turkey by its feathers
too early!
the green Cadillac
I’m not all-knowing but …
in the clubhouse
a famished orphan sits somewhere in the mind
form letter
first family
a real thing, a good woman
a child’s bedtime story
working out in Hades
half-a-goldfish
lousy mail
from the Dept. of English
and poems have too
poets to the rescue
red hot mail
some personal thoughts
he’s a dog
tremor
my Mexican buddy
strangers at the racetrack
will you tiptoe through the tulips with me?
the novel life
thanks for your help
I have continued regardless
balloons
moving toward the dark
the real thing
she looked at me and asked,
did you?
did you?
did you?
on the cuff
alone again
fooling Marie (the poem)
the copulation blues
the faithful wife
once in a while
another high-roller
the fucking horses
hello there!
the fuck-master
my personal psychologist
jealousy
her guy
dead poet’s wife
scrambled legs
endless love
down and out on the boardwalk
sex sister
to the ladies no longer here
the nude dancer
Ma Barker loves me
here we go again
do you believe that a man can be taught to write?
hail and farewell
weep
it’s a lonely world
of frightened people.
a note upon modern poesy
the end of an era
Paris in the spring
alone in this chair
talking about the poets
was Li Po wrong?
operator
a note from Hades in the mailbox
on the sunny banks of the university
vacation in Greece
the spill
the last salamander
learning the ropes
bombed away
the swimming pool will be going here
a bright boy
my turn
skinny-dipping
a close call
like a rock
the waitress at the yogurt shop
one out in the minor leagues
the little girls hissed
I dreamt
the old couple next door
men without women
the “Beats”
hurry slowly
hello and goodbye
I will never have
a house in the valley
with little stone men
on the lawn.
don’t call me, I’ll call you
taking the 8 count
going going gone
this is where they come for what’s left of your soul
hot night
the x-bum
something cares
my cats
6:30 a.m.
what I need
gender benders
after many nights
good morning, how are you?
a reader of my work
Sumatra Cum Laude
the disease of existence
another comeback
two nights before my 72nd birthday
have we come to this?
old poem
older
closing time
no leaders, please
everything hurts
husk
my song
cancer
blue
twilight musings
mind and heart
COME ON IN!
I live near the
slaughterhouse
and am ill
with thriving.
come on in!
welcome to my wormy hell.
the music grinds off-key.
fish eyes watch from the wall.
this is where the last happy shot was
fired.
the mind snaps closed
like a mind snapping
closed.
we need to discover a new will and a new
way.
we’re stuck here now
listening to the laughter of the
gods.
my temples ache with the fact of
the facts.
I get up, move about, scratch
myself.
I’m a pawn.
I am a hungry prayer.
my wormy hell welcomes you.
hello. hello there. come in, come on in!
plenty of room here for us all,
sucker.
we can only blame ourselves so
come sit with me in the dark.
it’s half-past
nowhere
everywhere.
nothing but a scarf
long ago, oh so long ago, when
I was trying to write short stories
and there was one little magazine which printed
decent stuff
and the lady editor there usually sent me
encouraging rejection slips
so I made a point to
read her monthly magazine in the public
library.
I noticed that she began to feature
the same writer
for the lead story each
month and
it pissed me off because I thought that I could
write better than that
fellow.