I’m getting back to where I was

I used to take the back off
the telephone and stuff it with rags
and do the same to the doorbell
and when somebody knocked
I wouldn’t answer and if they persisted
I’d tell them in terms vulgar
to vanish.

just another old crank
with wings of gold
flabby white belly
plus
eyes to knock out
the sun.

Like this website? Support it.
I want to bring all of Bukowski's poems online and make then freely available. This means hundreds of hours of work to retype over 1,000 of his poems from the original manuscripts. Your donations will help support this work.