Charles Bukowski (No hay camino al paraíso). by PACO: LITERATURA. Play next; Play now. El Extraño Caso Del Señor Valdemar – Edgar Allan Poe. Poemas recitados. Un espacio para la poesía recitada en la voz de Tomás Galindo. 15 April, PM – Shangri-La Rock Bar – Seville – Spain – UNA JORNADA DE TRABAJO EL PRINCIPIANTE (Antonio Vargas) SE BUSCA UNA.
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I imagine them brave and crazy I imagine them beautiful.
I asked for a sideorder of french fries. I m sorry, I said, I m really sorry. Yankee Doodle came to town Ridin on a pony He stuck a feather in his hat And called it macaroni. I suppose not, Ronny. But I want you to know that I love you, I think of you constantly, I don t think I ve ever loved anybody like I love you. Can Fly won the 3rd race and he continued to play his violin. I told them that I was feeling bad I didn t expect all these mothers arriving with their tits distended you see I am too good with the drunken letter and the drunken phonecall screaming for love when I probably don t have it I am going out to buy more towels bedsheets Alka-Seltzer washrags mop handles mops swords knives bombs vaseline flowers of yearning the works of De Sade.
I suppose I will. I got what I wanted in the bathroom something and I left. Banker Agent won the first race and he played his violin. I seldom see the interviews.
I can t eat. Me desmayo en los supermercados escupo sangre cuando bebo whiskey y me entristezco hasta dolerme cuando pienso en todas las buenas mujeres que he conocido disueltas y desvanecidas en trivialidades: Blake was sure of God. Ronny, mis poemas son rechazados por el New York Quarterly. I wait on my fix: Lawrence but I m glad I never met him in some bistro camink lifting his tiny hot cup of tea and looking at me with his worm-hole eyes.
I take out the piece of purple meat drop it into the pan. I have broken off with all 3 of my girlfriends.
Eliot worked a teller s cage. I ll pick the children up at ten.
Foch, Foch, Foch, Foch! I hate him I love you! I ride it myself. I remain there until it stops.
I don t see how it can be replaced with anything better. I am a poetry junkie. I warned you, I said. I had 43 cents and nothing but time.
I imagine the best things about them. I m going to send out for some fried chicken. And I m a Foch, he said. I think back to the women in my life.
But I think of you constantly, I feel you here in my belly like a baby, love I d call it, no matter what happens I d call it love, and so you fucked C. I wave at the little one which only seems to revive his impulse to challenge: I suppose that when I die the bukowsku will jump some other poor son of a bitch. I believe she s taken a modern novel and her reading glasses.
I sit with 3 junkies at one-thirty in the afternoon.