in the winter on my
ceiling my eyes the size of street-
lamps. I have 4 feet like a mouse but
wash my own underwear-bearded and
hungover and a hard-on and no lawyer. I 
have a face like a washrag. I sing
love songs and carry steel. 
I would rather die than cry. I can't
stand hounds can't live without them.
I hang my head against the white
refrigerator and want to scream like
the last weeping of life forever but
I am bigger then the mountains.

Added: Feb 20 2003 | Viewed: 2007 times | Comments (0)

Poet: Charles Bukowski
Poem: Trapped
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