Friday, 13 September 2013

Charles Bukowski: young men

young men

again and again
young men write me
the same letter:
"I can't write, but I
want to write.  I
read your stuff
and I want to
write just like you.
can you
please tell me something
that will help?

all around me the
hills are on fire,
floodwaters run
through here
swarming with
rats.
the streets roar
and yawn to
swallow me.
I'm choking
and can't breathe.

they want to write?
like me?
what do they mean?
what's writing?

I only want to go to
bed
close my eyes
and sleep
forever.