A Contest - The People Look Like Flowers At Last

As I alluded to in yesterday's post, I'm giving away three copies of Charles Bukowski's final collection of new poems, The People Look Like Flowers At Last.  I realize that saying that this is it from Bukowski may be hard to accept as true.  This will be the fifth collection of new poems released since his death in 1994, but we swear, we know John Martin, we know Linda Bukowski, as far as we all can tell, this is it.  (Except for the Selected Buk that we'll be publishing next year, edited by John Martin, but that's irrelevant.)  In order to procure your copy, please write me at [email protected].  Include your name, address, and...here's the catch: to win a copy you must write, what you think, would be Bukowski's final poem. 

Will he muse on the fickle and violent love of women, the fellowship of whisky, the anarchy of Los Angeles, the slow, ineluctable approach of death?  Will he be lewd, comic, sorely profound?  It is up to you.

I'll choose 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place winners--each will receive The People Look Like Flowers At Last and other goodies commensurate with their place.  Each winning poem will be posted for a day on the CM.  The deadline is Wednesday, March 21st and please include the poem in the body of your e-mail.  That should be plenty of time considering Buk's methods of composition. 

In the meantime, to help get you started, here's a long one from his final collection:

"sadness in the air"

here I am alone sitting
like some wimp

listening to Chopin

the night wind blowing in
through the
torn curtains.

won $546 at the track today but
now I'm thinking that
dying is such a strange and
ordinary thing.

I just hope that I'll never need
false teeth before I
go.

***

Wm. Holden cracked his head
on a coffee table
while drunk and
bled to death;
stiff and dead for 4 days
before they found him.

I wonder how Chopin went?

things pass away, that's not
news.

here in L.A.
I've seen so many good
Mexican fighters
come and go
climbing through the
ropes
young and glistening with
ambition
and then
vanish.

where do they go?
where are they tonight
as I listen to Chopin?

maybe I'm in a better
business?

I don't think so.

writers go fast
too
they forget how to lead
with a
straight hard sentence

then they teach class
write critical articles
bitch
get stale
vanish.

***

Holden slipped on a
throw rug
his head hitting the
nightstand
he had a .22 alcohol
blood count.

myself
i've gone down
many times usually
over a telephone cord.

I hate telephones
anyhow
whenever one rings
I jump.

people ask, "why do you
jump when the telephone
rings?"

if they don't know
you can't tell them.

***

it's getting cold
I go to shut the window.
I do.

Chopin continues.

when you drink alone
like Wm. Holden
sometimes you've got
something on your mind
that you can't tell
anybody.

in many cases it's
better to keep
silent.

we were not put here to
enjoy easy days and
nights

and when the telephone
rings
you too will know that
we're all
in the wrong business

and if you don't know
what that means
you don't feel the
sadness in the air.

Comments

[Lesley Clark AKA Wrtrgrl]

A challenge...

[wordwan]

yesterday
when I drank beer
the taste
was warm
against my liver

not that
the two of us
are talking.
Much. Anymore.

in the afternoon
I delivered
yet another
diatribe
to death

not thinking
it had anything
to do

with me

but then
--when do we ever?

we slide, arrive
and dish the dirt

with playmates
running skates across
the wooden stair

we ascribe to the sound

of dinner plates
set on grass
awaiting services

and when I once
remembered to

hold your hand
you slapped me

saying

god is not a church

and I am fine

in yesterday's mist
I sense
remembered kisses
but

altogether
love and lust
confused

and once, in haste
I loved, to waste

and wore the bitter ring
against her hue
I cried.

Now I am done
but do not
forget
we all
are soldiers to the
scribe

when this you see
please don't
concede
I lost my hand
to letters
open wide

Will this do?

*laugh*
wordwan

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女性は、この生活の中で二つの最も恐れている：良い男はかなりの合計を発見されることはありません、他は突然臨時になり、そして彼のオリジナルですが、ために彼の普通と容易のある日出会った普通の男性です。彼は破棄されます。