nature poem

you are 50,000 Light Years

running through my brain in

tracksuits or

you are like sitting in a bar

with enough money

with a good drink

and looking through the window

at the snow

you are the dead fish of miracle

moving

 

you are the love-god of ice cream

phantasy

you have diminished the screaming of

children as they drink my

blood

I think that you have killed landlords

wanting rent

and also bad

tigers

there is a white flower laying against

my screen

like a whore

like a cat

like a white flower

 

I could not go to work

tonight because I could not

stop living

and now I am lying in bed

looking at the white flower.

 

—charles bukowski

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