Picked up a book of Bukowski's poems in Soho this weekend and this one has been etched in my mind ever since. The last four lines will live side by side in my consciousness with the indellable words of Walt Witman in his poem Song to the Open Road:
". . .forever alive, forever forward."
the harder you try
the waste of words
continues with a stunning
persistence
as the waiter runs by carrying the loaded
tray
for all the wise white boys who laugh at
us.
no matter. no matter,
as long as your shoes are tied and nobody is walking too close
behind.
just being able to scratch yourself and
be nonchalant is victory
enough.
those constipated minds that seek larger meaning
will be dispatched with the other
garbage.
back off.
if there is a light
it will find
you.
thank you mister bukowski
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