It was yesterday, but belated was his thing anyway.
“LA was the end of a dead culture crawled west to get away from itself. LA knew it was rotten and laughed at it.”
Bukowski has been hailed as the poet laureate of LA – and to his legion of fans, Bukowski was––and remains––a counterculture icon. A hard–drinking wild man of literature, a stubborn outsider to the poetry world, he struck a chord with generations of readers, writing raw, tough poetry about booze, work, and women, that spoke to his fans as “real” and, like the work of the Beats, even dangerous.
If you haven’t ever, you have to. Even if its just a line. Because if his writing moves you it will move you right away. And if it moves you, well, its a great experience. And you’ll have miles of pages to savor. Those who know what I’m talking about, well, we share a similar experience then, don’t we.
Here’s a favorite. Try it.
“about the PEN conference”
take a writer away from his typewriter
and all you have left
is
the sickness
which started him
typing
in the
beginning.
From You Get So Alone At Times That It Just Makes Sense . And here’s a few pages from the most recent book of previously unpublished poetry that went on-sale back in March.
