and I call God a liar,
I say anything that moved like that
or knew my name could never die in the common verity of dying,
and I pick up her lovely dress, all her loveliness gone, and I speak to all the gods,
Jewish gods, Christ-gods, chips of blinking things, idols, pills, bread, fathoms, risks, knowledgeable surrender, rats in the gravy of 2 gone quite mad without a chance,
hummingbird knowledge, hummingbird chance,
I lean upon this, I lean on all of this and I know:
her dress upon my arm:
but they will not give her back to me.
Charles Bukowski
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5 görüntüleme
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