Charles Bukowski | Becoming is Superior to Being

The Cat’s “To Lean Back Into It” In The Well 1 comment

” Funny ” about memory and sometimes LOSS OF IT !! I have spent the last two plus hours searching for this poem because I had forgotten the title. It is not listed of his poems on line.

Finally, I remembered that I first came across it in Garrison Keillor’s WRITERS ALMANAC.

I thought of Bukowski because of the anniversary of that ABSOLUTELY overated Neal Cassidy and his death on this date in 1968 at age 41.

Bukowski…a titan! Neal…a mere shadow!

I really like the poem.

t. (the cat)

to lean back into it
like in a chair the color of the sun
as you listen to lazy piano music
and the aircraft overhead are not
at war.
where the last drink is as good as
the first
and you realize that the promises
you made yourself were
kept.
that’s plenty.
that last: about the promises:
what’s not so good is that the few
friends you had are
dead and they seem
irreplacable.
as for women, you didn’t know enough
early enough
and you knew enough
too late.
and if more self-analysis is allowed: it’s
nice that you turned out well-
honed,
that you arrived late
and remained generally
capable.
outside of that, not much to say
except you can leave without
regret.
until then, a bit more amusement,
a bit more endurance,
leaning back
into it.
like the dog who got across
the busy street:
not all of it was good
luck.

**Poem: “to lean back into it,” by Charles Bukowski, from what matters most is how well you walk through the fire (Black Sparrow Press).**

Charles Bukowski, Today 1 comment

Ok, he didn’t need to remind me, but he did;
brother Tom, that is.
He sent an email telling me that today
is the anniversary of
the death of writer Charles Bukowski –
we share an appreciation for
this great American poet.
Tom, you’ve taught me well, I know that!

But, in honor of his persistence and redundancy,
I share Tom’s favorite Bukowski poem:
“to lean back into it,” by Charles Bukowski, from
what matters most is how well you walk through the fire
(Black Sparrow Press).

to lean back into it

like in a chair the color of the sun
as you listen to lazy piano music
and the aircraft overhead are not
at war.
where the last drink is as good as
the first
and you realize that the promises
you made yourself were
kept.
that’s plenty.
that last: about the promises:
what’s not so good is that the few
friends you had are
dead and they seem
irreplacable.
as for women, you didn’t know enough
early enough
and you knew enough
too late.
and if more self-analysis is allowed: it’s
nice that you turned out well-
honed,
that you arrived late
and remained generally
capable.
outside of that, not much to say
except you can leave without
regret.
until then, a bit more amusement,
a bit more endurance,
leaning back
into it.
like the dog who got across
the busy street:
not all of it was good
luck.