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myself whiter than this sheet of paper,

       bloodless,

       brain gone, gamble gone, me, Bukowski,

       gone …

      “Isn’t it a lovely day, Mr. Bukowski?”

       “O, yeah, yeah …” pissing in my pajamas, slop drooling out of my mouth.

      2 young schoolboys run by—

      “Hey, did you see that old guy?”

      “Christ, yes, he made me sick!”

      after all the threats to do so

       somebody else has committed suicide for me at last.

      the nurse stops the wheelchair, breaks a rose from a nearby bush, puts it in my hand.

      I don’t even know

       what it is. it might as well be my pecker

       for all the good

       it does.

       tabby cat

      he has on blue jeans and tennis shoes

       and walks with two young girls

       about his age.

       every now and then he leaps

       into the air and

       clicks his heels together.

      he’s like a young colt

       but somehow he also reminds me

       more of a tabby cat.

      his ass is soft and

       he has no more on his mind

       than a gnat.

      he jumps along behind his girls

       clicking his heels together.

      then he pulls the hair of one

       runs over to the other and

       squeezes her neck.

      he has fucked both of them and

       is pleased with himself.

       it has all happened

       so easily for him.

      and I think, ah,

       my little tabby cat

       what nights and days

       wait for you.

      your soft ass

       will be your doom.

       your agony

       will be endless

       and the girls

       who are yours now

       will soon belong to other men

       who didn’t get their cookies

       and cream so easily and

       so early.

      the girls are practicing on you

       the girls are practicing for other men

       for someone out of the jungle

       for someone out of the lion cage.

      I smile as

       I watch you walking along

       clicking your heels together.

       my god, boy, I fear for you

       on that night

       when you first find out.

       it’s a sunny day now.

       jump

       while you

       can.

       metamorphosis

      a girlfriend came in

       built me a bed

       scrubbed and waxed the kitchen floor

       scrubbed the walls

       vacuumed

       cleaned the toilet

       the bathtub

       scrubbed the bathroom floor

       and cut my toenails and

       my hair.

      then

       all on the same day

       the plumber came and fixed the kitchen faucet

       and the toilet

       and the gas man fixed the heater

       and the phone man fixed the phone.

       now I sit here in all this perfection.

       it is quiet.

       I have broken off with all 3 of my girlfriends.

      I felt better when everything was in disorder.

       it will take me some months to get back to normal:

       I can’t even find a roach to commune with.

       I have lost my rhythm.

       I can’t sleep.

       I can’t eat.

      I have been robbed of

       my filth.

       a poem is a city

      a poem is a city filled with streets and sewers

       filled with saints, heroes, beggars, madmen,

       filled with banality and booze,

       filled with rain and thunder and periods of

       drought, a poem is a city at war,

       a poem is a city asking a clock why,

       a poem is a city burning,

       a poem is a city under guns

       its barbershops filled with cynical drunks,

       a poem is a city where God rides naked

       through the streets like Lady Godiva,

       where dogs bark at night, and chase away

       the flag; a poem is a city of poets,

       most of them quite similar

       and envious and bitter …

       a poem is this city now,

       50 miles from nowhere,

       9:09 in the morning,

       the taste of liquor and cigarettes,

       no police, no lovers, walking the streets,

       this poem, this city, closing its doors,

       barricaded, almost empty,

       mournful without tears, aging without pity,

       the hardrock mountains,

       the ocean like a lavender flame,

       a moon destitute of greatness,

       a small music from broken windows …

      a poem is a city, a poem is a nation,

       a poem is the world …

       and now I stick this under glass

       for the mad editor’s scrutiny,

       and night is elsewhere

       and faint gray ladies stand in line,

       dog follows dog to estuary,

       the trumpets bring on gallows

       as small men rant at things

       they cannot do.

      

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