Bukowski about a shitty Monday morning
on Monday mornings
while presidents speak of honor and culture
and dedication…
I am sad because my manliness chokes me down
to the nakedness of revulsion
when there is so little time to understand,
I am sad because my drink is running low
and I must either visit people who drink
or go to storekeepers
with a poem they will never print…”
Charles Bukowski, The Roominghouse Madrigals: Early Selected Poems, 1946-1966
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