Thursday, July 19, 2007

Bukowski

Rilke, she said, don't you love Rilke?
No, I siad, he bores me
Poets bore me, they are shits, snails, snippets of dust in a cheap wind
Lorca, she said, how about Lorca
Lorca was good when he was good, he knew how to sing, but the only reason you like him is because he was murdered.
Shelley, then, she said, how about Shelley?
Didn't he drown in a rowboat?

Charles Bukowski