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More poems by Charles BukowskiCharles Bukowski | Print this page.Print | Order a PoetryNotes Analysis of this poem.Analysis | View and Write CommentsComments

Luck

Charles Bukowski

once
we were young
at this
machine. . .

drinking

smoking

typing

it was a most
splendid
miraculous
time

still
is
only now
instead of
moving toward
time
it
moves toward
us
makes each word
drill
into the
paper
clear
fast
hard
feeding a
closing
space.

Added: 14 Aug 2001 | Last Read: 19 Jul 2008 2:37 PM | Viewed: 6882 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/161/ | Viewed on 19 July 2008.
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