Rest You Merry Gentlemen And Rest You Merry Whores And Let The Lamplights Light

you under the elm tree
you busting ass at a handpress
you milking a cow without a milking
the trick is to
black jack the parish priest and burn
his wallet and perfumed candy
and be asleep before
10 p.m.
you see the hands wrinkle fast
the heart will stop
the eyes will look like shots of
glue and about all you can preserve
is a rose between paper
or works of Homer so
our main history is
getting it done.
we are the students of our own
you fry an egg and know that you are
or work the 3rd bull at Madrid
and become very conscious of the tangle of
your insides so neat now:
bringing ladieslegs and color and sunlight
inside of your head
glowing over sand, or you get
down on wood
the conception cannonised to
glass-eyed prayer
working through you like
you getting on the bus
dreaming arias
hide from your wife
don’t go home
hide in that purple bar
count legs like diamonds
they’ll all soon be what? what? what’s
that horrible word: Goners?
o my, buy a pound of meat
and smell it, or
buy 130 pounds of it
walking and mostly alive
in a dress like a burning flag:
take her to a motelroom
with a red radio and yellow drapes
talk about bumblebees
the achemon sphinx

fuck her

let involute nations
decide the bomb

let the undertaker

take the night off
invincible particle of

Fuck her.

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