Bukowski – Lost


Today is the one year anniversary of my  9.14.17

Thanks for the clicks and clacks.

Today is also the day I have breathed the air 
of this planet for 10,154 days in a row.
Also, today I learned babies don’t drink water,
at least for 6 moths,
only milk,
and sometimes whiskey.
(these are some babies).
and none of these really matter,
when you think of the void that is out there,
so open,
so welcoming,
no ground to hit when you are falling through it,
no walls.
no nothing.
the same void that
this planet that I have been breathing its air
is just resting there,
ever so lazily.
so why should’t I keep the website forever,
and why shouldn’t I breathe the air for 20,000 
more days.
I feel lucky in the mornings that I remember
nothing really matters.
isn’t that beautiful?
isn’t that make you to take a deep breath,
and a let out a sigh of relief?
pour yourself a cup of coffee,
think of a love,
and read a poem?
Maybe it doesn’t…
that’s beautiful too,
as beautiful as
your eyes,
as beautiful as
broken umbrellas looking like deadbirds,
as beautiful as
my grandmother’s geranium garden,



they say that hell is crowded, yet,
when you’re in hell,
you always seem to be alone.
& you can’t tell anyone when you’re in hell
or they’ll think you’re crazy
& being crazy is being in hell
& being sane is hellish too.

those who escape hell, however,
never talk about it
& nothing much bothers them after that.
I mean, things like missing a meal,
going to jail, wrecking your car,
or even the idea of death itself.

when you ask them,
“how are things?”
they’ll always answer, “fine, just fine…”

once you’ve been to hell and back,
that’s enough
it’s the greatest satisfaction known to man.

once you’ve been to hell and back,
you don’t look behind you when the floor creaks
and the sun is always up at midnight
and things like the eyes of mice
or an abandoned tire in a vacant lot
can make you smile
once you’ve been to hell and back.

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