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Charles Bukowski

I remembered my New Orleans days, living on two five-cent candy bars a day for weeks at a time in order to have leisure to write. But starvation, unfortunately, didn’t improve art. It only hindered it. A man’s soul was rooted in his stomach. A man could write much better after eating a porterhouse steak… Continue reading Charles Bukowski

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American Culture · American Literature · Classic · Collection · Confessional · Contemporary · Poetry

Charles Bukowski

Everywhere, Everywhere amazing, how grimly we hold onto our misery, ever defensive, thwarted by the forces. amazing, the energy we burn fueling our anger. amazing, how one moment we can be snarling like a beast, then a few moments later, forgetting what or why. not hours of this or days or months or years of… Continue reading Charles Bukowski

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