The People Look Like Flowers At Last

• Poetry / American

The fifth and final collection of posthumous work by Charles Bukowski, America’s most imitated and influential poet

From “fingernails; nostrils; shoelaces”

the gas line is leaking, the bird is gone from the

cage, the skyline is dotted with vulture;

Benny finally got off the stuff and Betty now has a job

as a waitress; and

the chimney sweep was quite delicate as he

giggled up through the

soot.

I walked miles through the city and recognized

nothing as a giant claw ate at my

stomach while the inside of my head felt

airy as if I was about to go

mad.

it’s not so much that nothing means

anything but more that it keeps meaning

nothing,

there’s no release, just gurus and self-

appointed gods and hucksters.

the more people say, the less there is to say.

even the best books are dry sawdust.