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my father and the bum | 17 | |
legs, hips and behind | 18 | |
igloo | 20 | |
the mice | 22 | |
my garden | 24 | |
legs and white thighs | 25 | |
Mademoiselle from Armentieres | 26 | |
my father's big-time fling | 29 | |
the bakers of 1935 | 31 | |
the people | 35 | |
the pretty girl who rented rooms | 36 | |
too soon | 38 | |
canned heat? | 40 | |
Pershing Square, Los Angeles, 1939 | 43 | |
scene from 1940: | 46 | |
my big moment | 47 | |
daylight saving time | 50 | |
the railroad yard | 51 | |
horseshit | 52 | |
man's best friend | 54 | |
the sensitive, young poet | 56 | |
hunger | 58 | |
the first one | 61 | |
the night I saw George Raft in Vegas | 63 | |
no title | 65 | |
too many blacks | 66 | |
white dog | 68 | |
blue beads and bones | 69 | |
ax and blade | 71 | |
some notes on Bach and Haydn | 73 | |
born to lose | 76 | |
Phillipe's 1950 | 78 | |
in the lobby | 79 | |
he knows us all | 81 | |
victory! | 82 | |
more argument | 84 | |
wind the clock | 87 | |
what? | 88 | |
she comes from somewhere | 89 | |
lifedance | 90 | |
the bells | 91 | |
full moon | 93 | |
everywhere, everywhere | 94 | |
about a trip to Spain | 95 | |
Van Gogh | 96 | |
Vallejo | 98 | |
when the violets roar at the sun | 99 | |
the professionals | 100 | |
the 8 count concerto | 102 | |
an afternoon in February | 104 | |
crickets | 106 | |
the angel who pushed his wheelchair | 108 | |
the circus of death | 111 | |
the man? | 114 | |
Christmas poem to a man in jail | 115 | |
snake eyes? | 119 | |
my friends down at the corner: | 121 | |
smiling, shining, singing | 122 | |
Bruckner | 124 | |
this moment | 126 | |
one more good one | 127 | |
you do it while you're killing flies | 133 | |
the 12 hour night | 134 | |
plants which easily winter kills | 137 | |
the last poetry reading | 139 | |
probably so | 143 | |
assault | 144 | |
raw with love | 148 | |
wide and moving | 150 | |
demise | 151 | |
the pact | 153 | |
75 million dollars | 155 | |
butterflies | 157 | |
4 Christs | 159 | |
$180 gone | 162 | |
blue head of death | 164 | |
young men | 166 | |
the meaning of it all | 167 | |
guess who? | 169 | |
I want a mermaid | 170 | |
an unusual place | 172 | |
in this city now- | 174 | |
Captain Goodwine | 177 | |
morning love | 180 | |
an old jockey | 182 | |
hard times on Carlton Way | 184 | |
we needed him | 186 | |
Nana | 188 | |
poor Mimi | 189 | |
a boy and his dog | 192 | |
the dangerous ladies | 194 | |
sloppy love | 196 | |
winter: 44th year | 203 | |
Hollywood Ranch Market | 204 | |
rape | 207 | |
gone away | 211 | |
note left on the dresser by a lady friend: | 213 | |
legs | 215 | |
the artist | 217 | |
revolt in the ranks | 219 | |
life of the king | 221 | |
the silver mirror | 223 | |
hunchback | 225 | |
me and Capote | 227 | |
the savior: 1970 | 230 | |
la femme finie | 233 | |
beast | 234 | |
artistic selfishness | 236 | |
my literary fly | 237 | |
memory | 239 | |
Carlton Way off Western Ave | 241 | |
at the zoo | 243 | |
coke blues | 244 | |
nobody home | 245 | |
woman in the supermarket | 247 | |
fast track | 249 | |
hanging there on the wall | 251 | |
the hookers, the madmen and the doomed | 253 | |
looking for Jack | 255 | |
apprentices | 257 | |
38,000-to-one | 259 | |
a touch of steel | 261 | |
brown and solemn | 263 | |
time | 264 | |
nobody knows the trouble I've seen | 266 | |
the way it works | 268 | |
bright lights and serpents | 270 | |
mean and stingy | 272 | |
$100 | 274 | |
this particular war | 276 | |
German bar | 277 | |
floor job | 278 | |
the icecream people | 280 | |
like a cherry seed in the throat | 282 | |
the ordinary cafe of the world | 285 | |
on shaving | 287 | |
school days | 291 | |
neither a borrower nor a lender be | 293 | |
sometimes even putting a nickel into a parking meter feels good- | 297 | |
Mahler | 299 | |
fellow countryman | 300 | |
the young man on the bus stop bench | 303 | |
computer class | 305 | |
image | 309 | |
the crunch (2) | 312 | |
I'll send you a postcard | 315 | |
bravo! | 316 | |
downtown | 318 | |
the blue pigeon | 320 | |
combat primer | 321 | |
thanks for that | 323 | |
they arrived in time | 324 | |
odd | 326 | |
an interlude | 328 | |
anonymity | 330 | |
what's it all mean? | 332 | |
one-to-five | 333 | |
insanity | 337 | |
farewell my lovely | 339 | |
comments upon my last book of poesy: | 341 | |
a correction to a lady of poesy: | 343 | |
Beethoven conducted his last symphony while totally deaf | 346 | |
on the sidewalk and in the sun | 348 | |
what do they want? | 350 | |
I hear all the latest hit tunes | 352 | |
am I the only one who suffers thus? | 354 | |
on lighting a cigar | 358 | |
the cigarette of the sun | 361 | |
to lean back into it | 363 | |
dog fight 1990 | 365 | |
I used to feel sorry for Henry Miller | 367 | |
locked in | 369 | |
wasted | 372 | |
Sunday lunch at the Holy Mission | 374 | |
slaughter | 375 | |
a vote for the gentle light | 377 | |
be alone | 379 | |
I inherit | 381 | |
another day | 384 | |
tabby cat | 386 | |
the gamblers | 388 | |
the crowd | 389 | |
trouble in the night | 391 | |
3 old men at separate tables | 393 | |
the singer | 395 | |
stuck with it | 397 | |
action on the corner | 400 | |
no guru | 402 | |
in this cage some songs are born | 404 | |
my movie | 405 | |
a new war | 407 | |
roll the dice | 408 |
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Add What Matters Most Is How Well You Walk Through the Fire, This second posthumous collection from Charles Bukowski takes readers deep into the raw, wild vein of writing that extends from the early 70s to the 1990s., What Matters Most Is How Well You Walk Through the Fire to the inventory that you are selling on WonderClubX
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Add What Matters Most Is How Well You Walk Through the Fire, This second posthumous collection from Charles Bukowski takes readers deep into the raw, wild vein of writing that extends from the early 70s to the 1990s., What Matters Most Is How Well You Walk Through the Fire to your collection on WonderClub |