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 Jun 2014 Rlavr
blair asher
 Jun 2014 Rlavr
blair asher
how to say your name without choking how to embrace without clenching how to love without bleeding how to **** without detaching how to say goodbye without wincing
i don't know what else to say but i thought i did
sorry, i guess i'll just leave this here
 Jun 2014 Rlavr
See colors
Hear beats
Have wonders
Feel a kiss of peace
A mess of confusion
I'm caught in a storm I will never see
The illusion
of a calm that will never be
Awoken in the morning
Disoriented and blind
Forgetting my mother's warning
"Don't associate with them, they aren't your kind"

You take my hand
"Didn't see you there," I laugh
Carry me to the sand
Look, on my behalf
You let me listen to the waves
I recognize the change in your inflection when you smile
And my heart caves
You're my lily of the Nile

My ice cold beer in Hell
The lock on my door
A secret I don't have to tell
My everything, you're

I have trust
I have love
In this world that I must
Love is nearly as blind as me
An old willow with hollow branches
slowly swayed his few high gright tendrils
and sang:

Love is a young green willow
shimmering at the bare wood’s edge.
 Jun 2014 Rlavr
Charles Bukowski
one of Lorca's best lines
"agony, always
agony ..."
think of this when you
**** a
cockroach or
pick up a razor to
or awaken in the morning
face the
 Jun 2014 Rlavr
Charles Bukowski
when Whitman wrote, "I sing the body electric"

I know what he
I know what he

to be completely alive every moment
in spite of the inevitable.

we can't cheat death but we can make it
work so hard
that when it does take

it will have known a victory just as
perfect as
 Jun 2014 Rlavr
Charles Bukowski
don't undress my love
you might find a mannequin:
don't undress the mannequin
you might find
my love.
she's long ago
forgotten me.
she's trying on a new
and looks more the
than ever.

she is a
and a mannequin
and death.
I can't hate
she didn't do
I only wanted her
 Jun 2014 Rlavr
Charles Bukowski
he came to the door one night wet thin beaten and
a white cross-eyed tailless cat
I took him in and fed him and he stayed
grew to trust me until a friend drove up the driveway
and ran him over
I took what was left to a vet who said,"not much
chance...give him these pills...his backbone
is crushed, but it was crushed before and somehow
mended, if he lives he'll never walk, look at
these x-rays, he's been shot, look here, the pellets
are still there...also, he once had a tail, somebody
cut it off..."

I took the cat back, it was a hot summer, one of the
hottest in decades, I put him on the bathroom
floor, gave him water and pills, he wouldn't eat, he
wouldn't touch the water, I dipped my finger into it
and wet his mouth and I talked to him, I didn't go any-
where, I put in a lot of bathroom time and talked to
him and gently touched him and he looked back at
me with those pale blue crossed eyes and as the days went
by he made his first move
dragging himself forward by his front legs
(the rear ones wouldn't work)
he made it to the litter box
crawled over and in,
it was like the trumpet of possible victory
blowing in that bathroom and into the city, I
related to that cat-I'd had it bad, not that
bad but bad enough

one morning he got up, stood up, fell back down and
just looked at me.

"you can make it," I said to him.

he kept trying, getting up falling down, finally
he walked a few steps, he was like a drunk, the
rear legs just didn't want to do it and he fell again, rested,
then got up.

you know the rest: now he's better than ever, cross-eyed
almost toothless, but the grace is back, and that look in
his eyes never left...

and now sometimes I'm interviewed, they want to hear about
life and literature and I get drunk and hold up my cross-eyed,
shot, runover de-tailed cat and I say,"look, look
at this!"

but they don't understand, they say something like,"you
say you've been influenced by Celine?"

"no," I hold the cat up,"by what happens, by
things like this, by this, by this!"

I shake the cat, hold him up in
the smoky and drunken light, he's relaxed he knows...

it's then that the interviews end
although I am proud sometimes when I see the pictures
later and there I am and there is the cat and we are photo-
graphed together.

he too knows it's ******* but that somehow it all helps.
 Jun 2014 Rlavr
Charles Bukowski
style is the answer to everything --
a fresh way to approach a dull or a
dangerous thing.
to do a dull thing with style
is preferable to doing a dangerous thing
without it.

Joan of Arc had style
John the Baptist
Garcia Lorca.

style is the difference,
a way of doing,
a way of being done.

6 herons standing quietly in a pool of water
or you walking out of the bathroom naked
without seeing
 Jun 2014 Rlavr
Charles Bukowski
 Jun 2014 Rlavr
Charles Bukowski
a single dog
walking alone on a hot sidewalk of
appears to have the power
of ten thousand gods.

why is this?
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