Charles Bukowski

Charles Bukowski – Buona notte, dolce principe / Good night, sweet prince

Gustav Klimt, Freya’s Tears – Golden tears, c.1900 Music of the wormshandles me like a hot flyas escalators turn into spoonsgrandma moses would have wanted itthus –early to rise with tear – stained eyeslet me take you away from all of this:  there is a place behind the hills,  where trees are shaped likeguillotines,and mandolins …

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Charles Bukowski – Clever / Furbi

Richard Hamilton, Swingeing London, 1967 The clever people slide downstream likewhite fishthrough blue water,past the rapids,the clever peoplewith their clever throats and eyebrows,their clever nostril hairs,both shoes laced,all dooms erased,teeth white,the clever people slide cleanly,even their deaths are one-tenth deaths,clever clever clever,they have better walls,better cars,a better way to laugh.Even their nightmares are ringed withtinsel,these …

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Charles Bukowski – Displaced / Fuori posto

Vittore Carpaccio, The Dead Christ, 1520 Burning in hellthis piece of me fits in nowhereas other people find thingsto dowith their timeplaces to gowith one anotherthings to sayto each other.I amburning in hellsome place north of Mexico.Flowers don’t grow here.I am not likeother peopleother people are likeother people.they are all alike:joininggroupinghuddlingthey are bothgleeful and contentand …

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Charles Bukowski – A Trick to Dull Our Bleeding / Un trucco per alleviare il nostro sanguinare

Edvard Munch, The Dance of Life, 1899 Practically speaking the great words of great men are not so great. nor do great nations nor great beauties leave anything but the residue of reputation to be slowly gnawed away. nor do great wars seem so great, nor great poems nor first-hand legends. even the sad deaths …

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Charles Bukowski – What’s The Use Of A Title?/ Che te ne fai di un titolo?

Dino Valls, Limbus, 2009 They don’t make it the beautiful die in flame – suicide pills, rat poison, rope whatever… They rip their arms off, throw themselves out of windows, they pull their eyes out of the sockets, reject love reject hate reject, reject. They don’t make it the beautiful can’t endure, they are butterflies they are doves they are sparrows, they don’t make it. One tall shot of …

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