Slouching Toward Nirvana

Charles Bukowski

• Éditeur: HarperCollins e-books
• Année: 2009
• ISBN:
  9780061979989
• Sujet: Letteratura
• Sous-sujet: Poesia

"Wordsworth, Whitman, William Carlos Williams, and The Beats in their respective generations moved poetry toward a more natural language. Bukowski moved it a little farther."— Los Angeles Times Book Review

"He brought everybody down to earth, even the angels."—Leonard Cohen, songwriter

Los Angeles slums, bars, and more are featured in Slouching Toward Nirvana, the third of five books of unpublished poems from Charles Bukowski, considered by many to be America's most imitated and influential poet.

PART ONE

Bach is the hardest to play badly because

he made so few spiritual mistakes.

a 4th of July in the early 30’s

there wasn’t much to celebrate,

of course,

our fathers weren’t working

and the canned food from the Dept. of Relief

all had the same terrible

stale taste.

nothing much was happening anywhere and

there was a joyless resignation

in the air

but I remember this one morning at about

6 a.m. on the 4th of July

1932 or 3 or 4, I don’t remember which,

when I heard loud explosions

in the street outside:

GIANT FIRECRACKERS!

I got out of bed, dressed

quickly, ran outside

and there

coming up Longwood Avenue

right in the center of the street was

my buddy Gene

walking along and throwing

giant firecrackers

into the air.

the morning fog

was just beginning to lift

and the first sun was coming

through

and there was Gene

walking

along

and making the air

explode!

I ran up to him.

“god damn! what you got?”

“cherry bombs!

and plenty of

them!”

he also had

what was called a “punk,”

a coated metal stick that

glowed hot and red at the

end.

Gene touched the punk

to a fuse

watched it burn down,

then tossed the bomb high

into the air

where it exploded

right at the height of its

arc.

a man came out

on his front porch

in his pajamas.

“HEY, YOU KIDS, CUT OUT THAT

SHIT! I WANT TO SLEEP!”

“come out here and make us

stop!” said Gene

(he was big for his

age).

“I’LL TELL YOUR FATHER!”

Gene laughed, lit a cracker,

and tossed it toward the

man. it landed

right on the ledge of his large

plate glass window.

“BAANNGG!!”

luckily the window didn’t

break.

the man ran back into his

house.

Gene handed me the punk

and a bomb.

“you try one…”

I lit the fuse and waited

as long as I dared

then hurled the bomb.

it went off a dozen feet over my

head.

“not bad,” Gene said.

we walked up Longwood to

21st street, took a left, then

went up the little hill.

“watch this,”

said Gene.

there was a garbage can sitting out by a

fence.

Gene took the lid off, dropped

a lit bomb in there and

put the lid back

on.

“BAANNNGG!!”

the explosion sent the lid flying

about 3 feet

into the air.

“god, they’re powerful!”

“yeah,” said Gene.

we walked a little further up

the hill.

there was a car parked there

with the window slightly open

on the driver’s

side.

“watch this,” said Gene.

he lit a cracker and dropped it

through the window.

“BAAANNNGG!!”

the car rocked, then

was filled with thick

blue smoke.

“that was great!” I

said.

Gene had 3 or 4 cherry bombs left.

we turned, walked back down

the hill.

Gene lit the last ones,

one by one and arched them

as far as possible

into the air where

they exploded.

then we were standing in front

of his house.

it was now about 6:30

a.m.

“well, that’s it,” he said,

“it’s over.”

“thanks, Gene.”

“sure, see you

around…”

he walked into his

house...