dacă nu vine explodînd din tine în ciuda a orice nu o face. numai dacă vine neîntrebată din inima și mintea și gura și viscerele tale nu o

e vineri noaptea și-n noaptea asta fetele mexicane care-au ieșit la carnavalul catolicilor arată așa într-un fel special bărbații lor o freacă

prea mult prea puțin prea gras prea slab sau nimeni. râs sau lacrimi dușmani iubiți străini cu fețe

polițiștii vor să merg la secție și să identific un individ care-a încercat să mă violeze. iar mi-am pierdut cheia de la mașină. am o cheie de

conform unor studii științifice durează 325 de ani până când moare și ultima celulă din creier. acu-mi dau seama că majoritatea

\"poemele tale despre femei vor rezista 50 de ani după ce gagicile vor fi dispărut\" îmi zice editorul la telefon dragă editorule: se pare că

până la urmă mi-am cumpărat și eu un televizor color și noaptea trecută am dat peste filmul ăsta: în Paris e un individ care n-are nici un

așteptând moartea ca pe un pisoi care-o să-mi sară pe pat. îmi pare atât de rău pentru nevasta-mea o să găsească trupul ăsta țeapăn alb o

cu un Apple Macintosh nu poți rula programele de pe Radio Shack pe nici un driver. dar nici un Commodore 64 nu citește fișierul pe care l-ai

if you’re going to try, go all the way. otherwise, don’t even start. if you’re going to try, go all the way. this could mean losing

I don\'t know how many bottles of beer I have consumed while waiting for things to get better I dont know how much wine and whisky and

Born like this Into this As the chalk faces smile As Mrs. Death laughs As the elevators break As political landscapes dissolve As the

some people grind away making their unhappiness the ultimate factor of their existence until finally they are just automatically unhappy,

there\'s a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out but I\'m too tough for him, I say, stay in there, I\'m not going to let anybody see

my uncle Jack is a mouse is a house on fire is a war about to begin is a man running down the street with a knife in his back. my uncle

drunk and writing poems at 3 a.m. what counts now is one more tight pussy before the light tilts out drunk and writing poems at 3:15

it is only once in a while that you see someone whose electricity and presence matches yours at that moment and

we had goldfish and they circled around and around in the bowl on the table near the heavy drapes covering the picture window and my mother,

too much too little too fat too thin or nobody. laughter or tears haters lovers strangers with faces like the backs

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

You don\'t know what love is Bukowski said I\'m 51 years old look at me I\'m in love with this young broad I got it bad but she\'s hung up

we are always asked to understand the other person\'s viewpoint no matter how out-dated foolish or obnoxious. one is asked to view their

I see you drinking at a fountain with tiny blue hands, no, your hands are not tiny they are small, and the fountain is in France where you wrote

at the track today, Father\'s Day, each paid admission was entitled to a wallet and each contained a little surprise. most of the men