Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Charles Bukowski: Luck

Luck

once
we were young
at this
machine. . .
drinking
smoking
typing

it was a most
splendid
miraculous
time

still
is

only now
instead of
moving toward
time
it
moves toward
us

makes each word
drill
into the
paper

clear

fast

hard

feeding a
closing
space.

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