And when it does come...
it's just a slow day moving into a slow night.
it doesn't matter what you do
everything just stays the same.
the cats sleep it off, the dogs don't
bark,
it's just a slow day moving into a slow night.
there's nothing even dying,
it's just more waiting through a slow day moving
into a slow night.
you don't even hear the water running,
the walls just stand there
and the doors don't open.
it's just a slow day moving into a slow night.
the rain has stopped,
you can't hear a siren anywhere,
your wristwatch has a dead battery,
the cigarette lighter is out of fluid,
it's just a slow day moving into a slow night,
it's just more waiting through a slow day moving
into a slow night
like tomorrow's never going to come
and when it does
it'll be the same damn thing.
-charles bukowski, "wind the clock," published posthumously, 1999
it doesn't matter what you do
everything just stays the same.
the cats sleep it off, the dogs don't
bark,
it's just a slow day moving into a slow night.
there's nothing even dying,
it's just more waiting through a slow day moving
into a slow night.
you don't even hear the water running,
the walls just stand there
and the doors don't open.
it's just a slow day moving into a slow night.
the rain has stopped,
you can't hear a siren anywhere,
your wristwatch has a dead battery,
the cigarette lighter is out of fluid,
it's just a slow day moving into a slow night,
it's just more waiting through a slow day moving
into a slow night
like tomorrow's never going to come
and when it does
it'll be the same damn thing.
-charles bukowski, "wind the clock," published posthumously, 1999
posted by Stephanie at
2:10 AM
5 Comments:
The only book I poetry I ever read with much satisfaction with by him, on the Holy Isle, Near Arran, Scotland circa 1996. Didn't seem to have time to read any more which is a pity. Hotboy
B wrote this once: "Our conversation went along without strain. We seemed to discover secrets together. When we discovered a good one, Cass would laugh that laugh. It was like joy out of fire". (from Dave)
Hotboy - I haven't encountered another poet with the grit and honesty of Bukowski. They say his books are the most frequently stolen from bookstores, or at least they were at one point, if the legend is true--
Dave - Great quote, hit me at just the right moment when I read it. "Discovering secrets together" is one of the best things about life, isn't it? Even better when you don't quite have to say what they are, and can just laugh and share that unspoken understanding instead. Something I am slowly coming to appreciate. Thanks for posting this--
I read in the Observer one Sunday that he'd died. Sunny day around Princes Street. I had given up beer for months, but I trecked down to the Internatinal Bar, and sat and got drunk, and felt extremely good I must say! Hotboy
steph.
i like ur little haikus too. they emulate some of the views and feeling i have, yet unable to express due to limited creativity in writing.
u know the english in arts and creativity were the shittest of all europeans except for one form in which the beat the shit outta everybody. And that was litreture.
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