After Dinner Mints


You fit into me

You fit into me
like a hook into an eye

a fish hook
an open eye

(Margaret Atwood)

The Last Toast

I drink to our ruined house
to the dolor of my life,
to our loneliness together;
and to you I raise my glass,
to lying lips that have betrayed us,
to dead-cold pitiless eyes,
and to the hard realities:
that the world is brutal and coarse,
that God in fact has not saved us.

(Anna Akhmatova)


just heard a commercial
which told me
Farmer John smokes his own
now, there’s a tough
son of a

all the way to the grave

Tolstoy’s wife was a
and one bitter cold
she started in on him
and he left the house to
escape her
caught the
pneumonia which
killed him.

then she wrote a
what a
son of a bitch

(Charles Bukowski)


~ by NeonBoy on July 2, 2007.

4 Responses to “After Dinner Mints”

  1. The Farmer and the smoked bacon did it for me. Count it as one more laugh today.

    Just got the results from the vet. The dog is fine and dandy. Cocktail hour will be especially good tonight.

  2. Bukowski is/was awesome. I love his blunt to the point style. None of that flowery metaphorical blather.

  3. I’m trying to learn from that Bukowski fella. Unfortunately, my lyrical gauge is stuck at Welsh.

    rationalpsychic (Evans)

  4. Unfortunately Bukowski became quite a trendy wretch toward the end.

    Going so far as to purchase a BMW. But at the same time if you can make loot being an artist why not? I can’t think of a better way.

    His message did get cheapened a bit by the “Coffee Crowd” who look at the Gutter as some romantic symbol unable to fathom that real people actually live there.

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