Love &Amp; Fame &Amp; Death

it sits outside my window now
like and old woman going to market;
it sits and watches me,
it sweats nevously
through wire and fog and dog-bark
until suddenly
I slam the screen with a newspaper
like slapping at a fly
and you could hear the scream
over this plain city,
and then it left.

the way to end a poem
like this
is to become suddenly
quiet.


Submitted by .eve.

by Charles Bukowski

Comments (1)

what a marvelous poem, the imagery is glaring