you can’t force your way through the eye of a needle

thCAMIDG9TBukowski Again

 

tearing up poems is my
speciality.
on a given night
I will write between 5 and a
dozen
feeling very good about
all of
them.

the next day
in the cold morning
light
I face them
again:
some have
at best
only a decent line or
two.

to rip and basket
these failures
is a pure
pleasure.

there are some
days
then all of them
go.

the poems is hardly
the core of our
existence
although
there have been many
poets
who felt that
it
was.

whatever they are,
the gods are not
dumb.
they must laugh
and wonder
at our
fever for
fame.

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