sometimes there’s a crazy one
he lifts his feet and stares into his anus
while the American dollar falls in Europe
he thinks of old Bette Davis movies

it’s good to waste thoughts in unproclaimed
if you’re crazy enough to slide past
the mechanical static
you know that a half-filled coffeecup
holds more of the power and the secret
say than
the Grand Canyon

sometimes there’s a crazy one
he slips past
walks with a crow on his shoulder
is not worried about alarm clocks or

almost everybody’s sane, though, knows
answers to questions
can park automobiles in small places and
carve a turkey with style and
can laugh at almost any joke

the crazy ones laugh when there seems
no reason to

in our world
the sane are too many
instructed to boredom
no matter what they do–
screwing or eating or playing or
talking or climbing mountains or
taking baths or flying to India
they are numbed

when you see a crazy one
you leave it alone
there’s no luck like that luck
leave it alone
let it walk away
remember Christ was sane.

Charles Bukowski
Original manuscript
This poem appeared in the following books: