you write many poems about death

yes, and here’s another one
and it might be in one of my
books.

the book will be sitting in a
shelf,
fluffing itself
long after I am
gone.

think of that.
in a sense I will be speaking
to you.

consider that
this page you are looking at
now,
I was typing the words
under this yellow
light
with the radio
on.

when you consider death
long enough
it belongs
just like the water
pipe
the matchbook
the paper clip

the next page
after this
one.

Author
Charles Bukowski
Written
1990
Source
Original manuscript