Alone with Everyone : Charles Bukowski

I haven’t read much of him, but this is the only poem of Charles Bukowski that I’ve ever liked:

alone with everyone

the flesh covers the bone
and they put a mind
in there and
sometimes a soul,
and the women break
vases against the walls
and the men drink too
much
and nobody finds the
one
but keep
looking
crawling in and out
of beds.
flesh covers
the bone and the
flesh searches
for more than
flesh.

there’s no chance
at all:
we are all trapped
by a singular
fate.

nobody ever finds
the one.

the city dumps fill
the junkyards fill
the madhouses fill
the hospitals fill
the graveyards fill

nothing else
fills.

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One thought on “Alone with Everyone : Charles Bukowski

  1. Some folk take to Bukowski. Some don’t. Me? I took to him from the first word. This is so typically Bukowski I can see why you like it. You have a fine taste. A mighty fine taste.

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