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Charles Bukowski

On Cats

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  • Menna Abu Zahraцитирует3 года назад
    so I had to take a chance on Millie. She always had plenty of food. At any rate, she alwayshad cheese.
  • Victoria Dembrovskaцитирует4 года назад
    and they look at me

    and say through the irises: be

    calm, the sea is your blood, the moon is

    one of your balls — the big left one —

    and your automobile sits in the garage waiting

    on you patiently and

    even your wife

    loves you.
  • Victoria Dembrovskaцитирует4 года назад
    “my god,” they will say, “all Chinaski writes about

    are cats!”

    “my god,” they used to say, “all Chinaski writes about

    are whores!”

    the complainers will complain and keep buying my

    books: they love the way I irritate

    them.
  • Victoria Dembrovskaцитирует4 года назад
    magic persists

    without us

    no matter what

    we do

    against it.
  • Victoria Dembrovskaцитирует4 года назад
    Animals are inspirational. They don’t know how to lie. They are natural forces. TV can make me ill in five minutes, but I can look at an animal for hours and find nothing but grace and glory, life as it should be.
  • Victoria Dembrovskaцитирует4 года назад
    a reader
    my cat shit in my archives

    he climbed into my Golden State Sunkist

    orange box

    and he shit on my poems

    my original poems

    saved for the university archives.

    that one-eared fat black critic

    he signed me off.
  • Victoria Dembrovskaцитирует4 года назад
    Now here’s a beautiful cat. Its tongue hangs out, it’s cross-eyed. Its tail is chopped off. He’s beautiful, he’s got sense. We took him to the vet to have him x-rayed—he got hit by a car. The doctor says, ‘This cat’s been run over twice, he’s been shot, his tail’s been cut off.’ I said, ‘This cat is me.’ He came to the door starving to death. He knew right where to come. We’re both bums off the street.
  • Victoria Dembrovskaцитирует4 года назад
    it doesn’t engender up

    any special brilliance

    to know that

    we are going wrong again.

    we laugh less and less,

    become more sane.

    all we want is

    the absence of others.
  • Victoria Dembrovskaцитирует4 года назад
    that cat belonged to somebody

    it had a flea collar.

    I don’t know about the

    woman.
  • Victoria Dembrovskaцитирует4 года назад
    I don’t like love as a command, as a search. it must come to you, like a hungry cat at the door.
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