Friday, August 18, 2006
Portrait of A Middle-Aged Loner
Charles Bukowski, Poem For My 43rd Birthday:
To end up aloneKenneth Rexroth, The Advantages of Learning:
in a tomb of a room
just a lightbulb
and a potbelly,
and glad to have
I am a man with no ambitions
And few friends, wholly incapable
Of making a living, growing no
Younger, fugitive from some just doom.
Lonely, ill-clothed, what does it matter?
At midnight I make myself a jug
Of hot white wine and cardamon seeds.
In a torn grey robe and old beret,
I sit in the cold writing poems,
Drawing nudes on the crooked margins,
Copulating with sixteen year old
Nymphomaniacs of my imagination.