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    Sunday, July 1, 2012

    a great poem by bukowski

    a song that incorporated the poem in its intro, great bassline

    we have everything and we have nothing --
    days with glass edges and the impossible stink
    of river moss -- worse than shit;
    checkerboard days of moves and countermoves,
    fagged interest, with as much sense in defeat as
    in victory; slow days like mules
    humping it slagged and sullen and sun-glazed
    up a road where a madman sits waiting among
    bluejays and wrens netted in and sucked a flakey grey.
    good days too of wine and shouting, fights
    in alleys, fat legs of women striving around
    your bowels buried in moans,
    the signs in bullrings like diamonds hollering
    Mother Capri, violets coming out of the ground
    telling you to forget the dead armies and the loves
    that robbed you.

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