About to begin reading
"Sifting through the madness for the word, the line, the way"
Poetry by a fella named Charles Bukowski.
Recommended by and on loan from friend. He warned me not to read it in a good mood I don't want spoiled. Know nothing about it or the author. Can't wait!
When it is truly time,
And if you have been chosen,
It will do it by
Itself and it will keep on doing it
Until you die or it dies in
There is no other way.
And there never was.
So you want to be a writer?
By Charles Bukowsi
I like this Charles Bukowski.
Said in the copyright notice that this work is from an archive of his that he had reserved for publication after his death. Here we go then.