Read You Get So Alone at Times That It Just Makes Sense Page 14

and when relationships

  went wrong

  with the

  girls.

  it helped

  through the

  wars and the

  hangovers

  the backalley fights

  the

  hospitals.

  to awaken in a cheap room

  in a strange city and

  pull up the shade—

  this was the craziest kind of

  contentment

  and to walk across the floor

  to an old dresser with a

  cracked mirror—

  see myself, ugly,

  grinning at it all.

  what matters most is

  how well you

  walk through the

  fire.

  forget it

  now, listen, when I die I don’t want any crying, just get the

  disposal under way, I’ve had a full some life, and

  if anybody has had an edge, I’ve

  had it, I’ve lived 7 or 8 lives in one, enough for

  anybody.

  we are all, finally, the same, so no speeches, please,

  unless you want to say he played the horses and was very

  good at that.

  you’re next and I already know something you don’t,

  maybe.

  quiet

  sitting tonight

  at this

  table

  by the

  window

  the woman is

  glooming

  in the

  bedroom

  these are her

  especially bad

  days.

  well, I have

  mine

  so

  in deference

  to her

  the typewriter

  is

  still.

  it’s odd,

  printing this stuff

  by

  hand

  reminds me of

  days

  past

  when things were

  not

  going well

  in another

  fashion.

  now

  the cat comes to

  see

  me

  he flops

  under the table

  between my

  feet

  we are both

  melting

  in the same

  fire.

  and, dear

  cat, we’re still

  working with the

  poem

  and some have

  noted

  that there’s some

  “slippage”

  here.

  well, at age

  65, I can

  “slip”

  plenty, yet still

  run rings

  around

  those pamby

  critics.

  Li Po knew

  what to do:

  drink another

  bottle and

  face

  the consequences.

  I turn to my

  right, see this huge

  head (reflected in the

  window) sucking at

  a cigarette

  and

  we grin at

  each

  other.

  then

  I turn

  back

  sit here

  and

  print more words upon this

  paper

  there is never

  a final

  grand

  statement

  and that’s the

  fix

  and the trick

  that works

  against

  us

  but

  I wish you could see

  my

  cat

  he has a

  splash

  of white on his

  face

  against an

  orange-yellow

  background

  and then

  as I look up

  and into the

  kitchen

  I see a bright

  portion

  under the overhead

  light

  that shades into

  darkness

  and then into darker

  darkness and

  I can’t see

  beyond

  that.

  it’s ours

  there is always that space there

  just before they get to us

  that space

  that fine relaxer

  the breather

  while say

  flopping on a bed

  thinking of nothing

  or say

  pouring a glass of water from the

  spigot

  while entranced by

  nothing

  that

  gentle pure

  space

  it’s worth

  centuries of

  existence

  say

  just to scratch your neck

  while looking out the window at

  a bare branch

  that space

  there

  before they get to us

  ensures

  that

  when they do

  they won’t

  get it all

  ever.

  About the Author

  CHARLES BUKOWSKI is one of America’s best-known contemporary writers of poetry and prose, and, many would claim, its most influential and imitated poet. He was born in Andernach, Germany, to an American soldier father and a German mother in 1920, and brought to the United States at the age of three. He was raised in Los Angeles and lived there for fifty years. He published his first story in 1944 when he was twenty-four and began writing poetry at the age of thirty-five. He died in San Pedro, California, on March 9, 1994, at the age of seventy-three, shortly after completing his last novel, Pulp (1994).

  During his lifetime he published more than forty-five books of poetry and prose, including the novels Post Office (1971), Factotum (1975), Women (1978), Ham on Rye (1982), and Hollywood (1989). Among his most recent books are the posthumous editions of What Matters Most Is How Well You Walk Through the Fire (1999), Open All Night: New Poems (2000), Beerspit Night and Cursing: The Correspondence of Charles Bukowski and Sheri Martinelli, 1960-1967 (2001), and The Night Torn Mad with Footsteps: New Poems (2001).

  All of his books have now been published in translation in over a dozen languages and his worldwide popularity remains undiminished. In the years to come, Ecco will publish additional volumes of previously uncollected poetry and letters.

  Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.

  BY CHARLES BUKOWSKI

  The Days Run Away Like Wild Horses Over the Hills (1969)

  Post Office (1971)

  Mockingbird Wish Me Luck (1972)

  South of No North (1973)

  Burning in Water, Drowning in Flame: Selected Poems 1955-1973 (1974)

  Factotum (1975)

  Love Is a Dog from Hell: Poems 1974-1977 (1977)

  Women (1978)

  Play the Piano Drunk /Like a Percussion Instrument/Until the Fingers Begin to Bleed a Bit (1979)

  Shakespeare Never Did This (1979)

  Dangling in the Tournefortia (1981)

  Ham on Rye (1982)

  Bring Me Your Love (1983)

  Hot Water Music (1983)

  There’s No Business (1984)

  War All the Time: Poems 1981-1984 (1984)

  You Get So Alone at Times That It Just Makes Sense (1986)

  The Movie: “Barfly” (1987)

  The Roominghouse Madrigals: Early Selected Poems 1946-1966 (1988)

  Hollywood (1989)

  Septuagenarian Stew: Stories & Poems (1990)

  The Last Night of the Earth Poems (1992)

  Screams fro
m the Balcony: Selected Letters 1960-1970 (1993)

  Pulp (1994)

  Living on Luck: Selected Letters 1960s-1970s (Volume 2) (1995)

  Betting on the Muse: Poems & Stories (1996)

  Bone Palace Ballet: New Poems (1997)

  The Captain Is Out to Lunch and the Sailors Have Taken Over the Ship (1998)

  Reach for the Sun: Selected Letters 1978-1994 (Volume 3) (1999)

  What Matters Most Is How Well You Walk Through the Fire: New Poems (1999)

  Open All Night: New Poems (2000)

  The Night Torn Mad with Footsteps: New Poems (2001)

  Beerspit Night and Cursing: The Correspondence of Charles Bukowski & Sheri Martinelli 1960-1967 (2001)

  Copyright

  YOU GET SO ALONE AT TIMES THAT IT JUST MAKES SENSE. Copyright © 1986 by Charles Bukowski. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

  EPub Edition © SEPTEMBER 2007 ISBN: 9780061873041

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  About the Publisher

  Australia

  HarperCollins Publishers (Australia) Pty. Ltd.

  25 Ryde Road (PO Box 321)

  Pymble, NSW 2073, Australia

  http://www.harpercollinsebooks.com.au

  Canada

  HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.

  55 Avenue Road, Suite 2900

  Toronto, ON, M5R, 3L2, Canada

  http://www.harpercollinsebooks.ca

  New Zealand

  HarperCollinsPublishers (New Zealand) Limited

  P.O. Box 1

  Auckland, New Zealand

  http://www.harpercollinsebooks.co.nz

  United Kingdom

  HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.

  77-85 Fulham Palace Road

  London, W6 8JB, UK

  http://www.harpercollinsebooks.co.uk

  United States

  HarperCollins Publishers Inc.

  10 East 53rd Street

  New York, NY 10022

  http://www.harpercollinsebooks.com

 


 

  Charles Bukowski, You Get So Alone at Times That It Just Makes Sense

  (Series: # )

 

 


 

 
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net

Share this book with friends