Odd by Charles Bukowski
like this night
seem to crawl down the back of one’s
neck and settle at the base of the skull,
it is probably a little prelude to
then the mind becomes like a
I watch Doestoevsky in a small room
and he is drinking a glass of
it is not a long movie:
he puts the glass down and it
then I am back
an air purifier
makes its soft sound behind me.
I smoke too much, the whole room
often turns blue
so now my wife has put in the air purifier.
now the night has left the back
of my skull.
I lean back in the swivel
pick up a bottle opener shaped
like a horse.
it’s like I’m holding the whole world
shaped like a horse.
I put the world down,
open a paper clip and begin to clean
waiting on death can be perfectly