Come On In!. Charles Bukowski

      

      Edited by John Martin

      These poems are part of an archive of unpublished work that Charles Bukowski left to be published after his death.

      Grateful acknowledgment is made to John Martin, who edited these poems.

      contents

       I live near the

       slaughterhouse

       and am ill

       with thriving.

      come on in!

      nothing but a scarf

      literary chitchat

      this machine is a fountain

      200 years

      residue

      Coronado Street: 1954

      a vision

      cut-rate drugstore: 4:30 p.m.

      you can’t tell a turkey by its feathers

      too early!

      the green Cadillac

      I’m not all-knowing but …

      in the clubhouse

      a famished orphan sits somewhere in the mind

      form letter

      first family

      a real thing, a good woman

      a child’s bedtime story

      working out in Hades

      half-a-goldfish

      lousy mail

      from the Dept. of English

      and poems have too

      poets to the rescue

      red hot mail

      some personal thoughts

      he’s a dog

      tremor

      my Mexican buddy

      strangers at the racetrack

      will you tiptoe through the tulips with me?

      the novel life

      thanks for your help

      I have continued regardless

      balloons

      moving toward the dark

      the real thing

       she looked at me and asked,

       did you?

       did you?

       did you?

      on the cuff

      alone again

      fooling Marie (the poem)

      the copulation blues

      the faithful wife

      once in a while

      another high-roller

      the fucking horses

      hello there!

      the fuck-master

      my personal psychologist

      jealousy

      her guy

      dead poet’s wife

      scrambled legs

      endless love

      down and out on the boardwalk

      sex sister

      to the ladies no longer here

      the nude dancer

      Ma Barker loves me

      here we go again

      do you believe that a man can be taught to write?

      hail and farewell

      weep

       it’s a lonely world

       of frightened people.

      a note upon modern poesy

      the end of an era

      Paris in the spring

      alone in this chair

      talking about the poets

      was Li Po wrong?

      operator

      a note from Hades in the mailbox

      on the sunny banks of the university

      vacation in Greece

      the spill

      the last salamander

      learning the ropes

      bombed away

      the swimming pool will be going here

      a bright boy

      my turn

      skinny-dipping

      a close call

      like a rock

      the waitress at the yogurt shop

      one out in the minor leagues

      the little girls hissed

      I dreamt

      the old couple next door

      men without women

      the “Beats”

      hurry slowly

      hello and goodbye

       I will never have

       a house in the valley

       with little stone men

       on the lawn.

      don’t call me, I’ll call you

      taking the 8 count

      going going gone

      this is where they come for what’s left of your soul

      hot night

      the x-bum

      something cares

      my cats

      6:30 a.m.

      what I need

      gender benders

      after many nights

      good morning, how are you?

      a reader of my work

      Sumatra Cum Laude

      the disease of existence

      another comeback

      two nights before my 72nd birthday

      have we come to this?

      old poem

      older

      closing time

      no leaders, please

      everything hurts

      husk