Poem by Henry Charles Bukowski

as the sparrow

to give life you must take life,
and as our grief falls flat and hollow
upon the billion-blooded sea
I pass upon serious inward-breaking shoals rimmed
with white-legged, white-bellied rotting creatures
lengthily dead and rioting against surrounding scenes.
Dear child, I only did to you what the sparrow
did to you; I am old when it is fashionable to be
young; I cry when it is fashionable to laugh.
I hated you when it would have taken less courage
to love.

1. Having the Flu and with Nothing Else to Do
2. Small Conversation in the Afternoon with John Fante
3. decline
4. poetry readings
5. the trash men

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