- 408 pages
- English
- ePUB (mobile friendly)
- Available on iOS & Android
eBook - ePub
The Last Night of the Earth Poems
About this book
In The Last Night of the Earth Poems, Charles Bukowski reckons with writing, death and immortality, literature, city life, illness, war, and the past.
“The Walt Whitman of Los Angeles.”—Joyce Carol Oates, bestselling author
“He brought everybody down to earth, even the angels.”—Leonard Cohen, songwriter
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Yes, you can access The Last Night of the Earth Poems by Charles Bukowski in PDF and/or ePUB format, as well as other popular books in Literature & Women Authors Literary Collections. We have over one million books available in our catalogue for you to explore.
Information
1
my wrists are rivers
my fingers are words
jam
that Harbor Freeway south through the downtown
area—I mean, it can simply become
unbelievable.
last Friday evening I was sitting there
motionless behind a wall of red taillights,
there wasn’t even first gear movement
as masses of exhaust fumes
greyed the evening air, engines overheated
and there was the smell of a clutch
burning out
somewhere—
it seemed to come from ahead of me—
from that long slow rise of freeway where
the cars were working
from first gear to neutral
again and again
and from neutral back to
first gear.
on the radio I heard the news
of that day
at least 6 times, I was
well versed in world
affairs.
the remainder of the stations played a
thin, sick music.
the classical stations refused to come in
clearly
and when they did
it was a stale repetition of standard and
tiresome works.
I turned the radio off.
a strange whirling began in my
head—it circled behind the forehead, clockwise, went past the ears and around to the
back of the head, then back to the forehead
and around
again.
I began to wonder, is this what happens
when one goes
mad?
I considered getting out of my car.
I was in the so-called fast
lane.
I could see myself out there
out of my car
leaning against the freeway divider,
arms folded.
then I would slide down to a sitting
position, putting my head between
my legs.
I stayed in the car, bit my tongue, turned
the radio back on, willed the whirling to
stop
as I wondered if any of the others had to
battled against their
compulsions
as I did?
then the car ahead of me
MOVED
a foot, 2 feet, 3 feet!
I shifted to first gear…
there was MOVEMENT!
then I was back in neutral
BUT
we had moved from 7 to
ten feet.
hearing the world news for the
7th time,
it was still all bad
but all of us listening,
we could handle that too
because we knew
that there was nothing worse than
looking at
that same license plate
that same dumb head sticking up
from behind the headrest
in the c...
Table of contents
- Cover
- Title Page
- Contents
- Part 1
- Part 2
- Part 3
- Part 4
- About the Author
- By Charles Bukowski
- Copyright
- About the Publisher