Wednesday, December 30, 2020

Book Excerpt for the Day

O ants crawl my drunken arms

and they let Van Gogh sit in a cornfield

and take Life out of the world with a shotgun,

ants crawl my drunken arms

and they sent Rimbaud

to running guns and looking under rocks for gold,

O ants crawl my drunken arms,

they put Pound in a nuthouse

and made Crane jump into the sea in his pajamas,

ants, ants, crawl my drunken arms

as our schoolboys scream for Willie Mays

instead of Bach.


(from On Drinking by Charles Bukowski)

7½*/10. The complete review is here.

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