When I go to a bar, I don't go looking for a girl who knows the capital of Maine.
On Going Back To The Street After Viewing An Art Show
by Charles Bukowski
they talk down through
the centuries to us,
and this we need more and more,
the statues and paintings
in midnight age
as we go along
holding dead hands.
and we would say
rather than delude the knowing:
a damn good show,
but hardly enough for a horse to eat,
and out on the sunshine street where
eyes are dabbled in metazoan faces
i decide again
that in theses centuries
they have done very well
considering the nature of their
it's more than good
that some of them,
(closer really to the field-mouse than
have been bold enough to try.