Wednesday, August 29, 2007

another fine poem

PULL A STRING A PUPPET MOVES


every man must realize
that it can all disappear very
quickly:
the cat, the woman, the job,
the front tire,
the bed, the walls, the
room; all our necessities
including love,
rest on foundations of sand--
and any given cause,
no matter how unrelated:
the death of a boy in Hong Kong
or a blizzard in Omaha...
can serve as your undoing.
all your chinaware crashing to the
kitchen floor, your girl will enter
and you'll be standing, drunk,
in the center of it, and she'll ask:
my god, what's the matter?
and you'll answer: I don't know,
I don't know....


--Charles Bukowski

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

I INTRODUCED you to that poem, ma'am. Perhaps a little nod my way is required?

Gosh, I hate blogs.

Jennifer said...

I love this poem! Thanks, Button! Who is anonymous?

Anonymous said...

You just never MIND who anonymous is, Missy. I am the recommendor of all things Bukowskian. The reader of all things Shakespearian. The student of all things Oxfordian. I am Vishnu the Destroyer, Vlad the Impaler, and Lactose the Intolerant. So just keep your hands on the keyboard and your nose outta my business. I have spoken. Er, typed.

ButtonHole said...

Jen: Anonypoopsy is someone who WISHES he had the nerve to post a blog but is too intimidated by the likes of hot babes like me and yourself. He knows we blow him out of the water!!