i could scream down 90 mountains
to less than dust
if only one living human had eyes in the head
and heart in the body,
but there is no chance,
my god,
no chance.
rat with rat dog with dog hog with hog,
play the piano drunk
listen to the drunk piano,
realize the myth of mercy
stand still
as even a child's voice snarls
and we have not been fooled,
it was only that we wanted to believe.
bukowski, "the people look like flowers at last"
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Every time I read Bukowski, I hear Tom Waits' voice in my head. Every time I listen to Tom Waits, I imagine Bukowski guzzling a couple bottles of booze in the foreground. You know, with a fedora on his grizzled head.
ReplyDelete(and don't forget your Brahms/and your Bach and your/beer.)