Better Than Anything Bukowski Ever

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I think I’m chasing geese
But then say no
Just bleeding cunts with angel’s wings

But now I know
And wish to set those wings afire
As feathers scatter to ash

And make me ashen
Going blue at the lips
My hair ignited

And why not
My head should be used for something
Besides pleasing these angels

As though there were even the possibility

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3 Comments
LeBrozLeBrozabout 17 years ago
~~

This poem was mentioned in the Archival Review thread, in a picking through Lit's archive of over 34,500 poems.

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duddle146duddle146about 17 years ago
sincerity

A sincere person being reasonable.

LeBrozLeBrozover 17 years ago
~~

Now here's one from deep in the heart of Lit's vault.

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