Hmmm...I must have been thinking of another publication. I'll use the DB to ensure the next one is only from L, H and B.
From Legs, Hips and Behind
- Thread starter Purple Stickpin
- Start date
This next one is not his best, but it's good because it really puts you in the scene, and I can really relate to it personally (the hardest person to reason with is the one who arrives at a conclusion without knowing the facts; they rely on their television experience, perhaps?). Secondly, it shows that Buk really did care what other people think (despite some of his writing), at least in certain periods of his life and/or in certain situations.
And, it's not published elsewhere as far as I can tell. :rolleyes: Lastly, note that the paragraph spacing I have used is actually a half-space return in the original, but I can't do it that way here. Just trying to be real.:cool:
LOST DOG
we had just come out of a cafe
about 2 in the afternoon
and I noticed this thin starving dog
he was dizzy and bewildered in the hot sun
and he kept running out into the boulevard
in wild circles
just being missed by automobiles.
"let's get him out of the street," she said.
"o.k.," I said.
we got into the car and drove along to where
he was.
I finally coaxed him into the car.
he was still trembling.
"let's take him home with us," she said.
"I'm not that good a person," I said.
"I'm just going to take him to a nice shady park
where he can get some water and some picnic
scraps."
I drove him to the park grounds and let him
out. then I swung around and got on the Golden
Gate freeway.
a man pulled up alongside of me as we drove along.
"you son of a bitch! I saw what you did!"
"what are you talking about?"
the man was furious:
"I saw you dump your dog! I saw you let him out!
I saw you dump him in the park!"
we were driving side by side at 60 miles per
hour. he had his woman with him.
she was frightened and silent. so was
mine.
"hey, that wasn't my dog!"
"you lying bastard! it was your dog!
"listen to me! let me explain!
"explain what? you dirty rotten son of a bitch!"
"I picked the dog up off the street! he was going
to get run over! I saved his ass, you damn
fool!
he didn't believe me:
"you dirty rotten fucking human being!"
"hey!" I screamed back at him, "pull on over and
I'll rip your god damned head off!"
"o.k.!, " he screamed, "o.k., I'll try you!"
he started to veer off the freeway and I followed
him.
then his woman grabbed him by the arm and began
talking to him.
he pulled his car back into the lane and
drove on.
I hit the gas and gained on him.
"what are you trying to do?"
my woman asked.
"I want him to understand!
they'll lay in bed tonight and talk about
what a bastard I was!"
"Hank, he'll never believe you
no matter what you say."
"all right, I guess you're right...."
everybody was feeling bad.
then I drove past the exit I wanted
on the freeway. my stars were surely
out of order for that
day.
And, it's not published elsewhere as far as I can tell. :rolleyes: Lastly, note that the paragraph spacing I have used is actually a half-space return in the original, but I can't do it that way here. Just trying to be real.:cool:
LOST DOG
we had just come out of a cafe
about 2 in the afternoon
and I noticed this thin starving dog
he was dizzy and bewildered in the hot sun
and he kept running out into the boulevard
in wild circles
just being missed by automobiles.
"let's get him out of the street," she said.
"o.k.," I said.
we got into the car and drove along to where
he was.
I finally coaxed him into the car.
he was still trembling.
"let's take him home with us," she said.
"I'm not that good a person," I said.
"I'm just going to take him to a nice shady park
where he can get some water and some picnic
scraps."
I drove him to the park grounds and let him
out. then I swung around and got on the Golden
Gate freeway.
a man pulled up alongside of me as we drove along.
"you son of a bitch! I saw what you did!"
"what are you talking about?"
the man was furious:
"I saw you dump your dog! I saw you let him out!
I saw you dump him in the park!"
we were driving side by side at 60 miles per
hour. he had his woman with him.
she was frightened and silent. so was
mine.
"hey, that wasn't my dog!"
"you lying bastard! it was your dog!
"listen to me! let me explain!
"explain what? you dirty rotten son of a bitch!"
"I picked the dog up off the street! he was going
to get run over! I saved his ass, you damn
fool!
he didn't believe me:
"you dirty rotten fucking human being!"
"hey!" I screamed back at him, "pull on over and
I'll rip your god damned head off!"
"o.k.!, " he screamed, "o.k., I'll try you!"
he started to veer off the freeway and I followed
him.
then his woman grabbed him by the arm and began
talking to him.
he pulled his car back into the lane and
drove on.
I hit the gas and gained on him.
"what are you trying to do?"
my woman asked.
"I want him to understand!
they'll lay in bed tonight and talk about
what a bastard I was!"
"Hank, he'll never believe you
no matter what you say."
"all right, I guess you're right...."
everybody was feeling bad.
then I drove past the exit I wanted
on the freeway. my stars were surely
out of order for that
day.
Here's one that will give you an idea of some of the writers he liked that he didn't mention very often.
THEY ARRIVED
I like to think about people like James Joyce,
Hemingway, Ambrose Bierce, Faulkner, Sherwood
Anderson, Frost, Jeffers, D.H. Lawrence, A. Huxley,
John Fante, Gorki, Turgenev, Dostoevsky, Saroyan,
Villon, even Sinclair Lewis and Hamsun, even T.S. Eliot and Pound, and William Carlos Williams and Stephen Spender and Auden.
the brought me other things than my parents
brought me
I like to think of Carson McCullers
she brought me other things than my parents
brought me.
I liked the hardcover library books
blue and green and brown and light red
I liked the distinguished librarians
who stared classically at one
when you coughed or spoke too loudly,
and even though they were like my parents
they were not.
now I no longer read those I once liked
but it's good to think about them.
I like photographs of Hart Crane and Caresse
Crosby at Chantilly, 1929
or photographs of D.H. Lawrence and Frieda
sunning at Le Moulin, 1928.
I like Andre Malraux in his flying outfit
with a kitten on his chest
I like photos of Artaud in the madhouse
Picasso at the beach with his strong legs
and his hairless head, and then there's
D.H. milking that cow.
and Aldous at Saltwood Castle, Kent, August
1963.
I like to think about these people
they brought me other things than my parents
brought me,
and they brought them to me well,
very well
when it was so much needed
they brough me other things
that I never knew were there.
those friends
deeper than blood
who
when there was no chance
gave me one.
THEY ARRIVED
I like to think about people like James Joyce,
Hemingway, Ambrose Bierce, Faulkner, Sherwood
Anderson, Frost, Jeffers, D.H. Lawrence, A. Huxley,
John Fante, Gorki, Turgenev, Dostoevsky, Saroyan,
Villon, even Sinclair Lewis and Hamsun, even T.S. Eliot and Pound, and William Carlos Williams and Stephen Spender and Auden.
the brought me other things than my parents
brought me
I like to think of Carson McCullers
she brought me other things than my parents
brought me.
I liked the hardcover library books
blue and green and brown and light red
I liked the distinguished librarians
who stared classically at one
when you coughed or spoke too loudly,
and even though they were like my parents
they were not.
now I no longer read those I once liked
but it's good to think about them.
I like photographs of Hart Crane and Caresse
Crosby at Chantilly, 1929
or photographs of D.H. Lawrence and Frieda
sunning at Le Moulin, 1928.
I like Andre Malraux in his flying outfit
with a kitten on his chest
I like photos of Artaud in the madhouse
Picasso at the beach with his strong legs
and his hairless head, and then there's
D.H. milking that cow.
and Aldous at Saltwood Castle, Kent, August
1963.
I like to think about these people
they brought me other things than my parents
brought me,
and they brought them to me well,
very well
when it was so much needed
they brough me other things
that I never knew were there.
those friends
deeper than blood
who
when there was no chance
gave me one.
THE BEAST - from Legs, Hips and Behind
THE BEAST
it was on Western avenue
last night
about 7:30 p.m.
I was walking south
toward Sunset
and on the 2nd. floor of
the motel across the street
at the apartment in the back
the lights were on
and here was this man
he must have weighed 370 pounds
he was 6 and one half feet tall
and 4 feet wide
and his arm reached out
and he rather lazily punched
a naked woman in the face.
another woman stood up
and this woman was clothed
and he gave her a whack across
the back of the neck.
then he punched the naked one
in the face again.
he seemed bored.
then I saw him walk to the window
and open it.
he had a roasted chicken in his
hand.
he put it to his mouth
bit out half the side
and began chewing.
he chewed a minute or
two
then he spit the bones
out the window
I could hear them clattering
down on the
sidewalk.
god jesus christ oh mighty,
mercy!
I saw him looking down at me
and I quickly moved forward
ducking my head down
into the night.
As discussed here: You never say duck and ducking
THE BEAST
it was on Western avenue
last night
about 7:30 p.m.
I was walking south
toward Sunset
and on the 2nd. floor of
the motel across the street
at the apartment in the back
the lights were on
and here was this man
he must have weighed 370 pounds
he was 6 and one half feet tall
and 4 feet wide
and his arm reached out
and he rather lazily punched
a naked woman in the face.
another woman stood up
and this woman was clothed
and he gave her a whack across
the back of the neck.
then he punched the naked one
in the face again.
he seemed bored.
then I saw him walk to the window
and open it.
he had a roasted chicken in his
hand.
he put it to his mouth
bit out half the side
and began chewing.
he chewed a minute or
two
then he spit the bones
out the window
I could hear them clattering
down on the
sidewalk.
god jesus christ oh mighty,
mercy!
I saw him looking down at me
and I quickly moved forward
ducking my head down
into the night.
As discussed here: You never say duck and ducking
Rekrab
Usually wrong.
I don't want to brag (sure I do) but I got all my issues of Wormwood for the $2 issue price, including Legs, Hips & Behind, or for free. Have all the Buk separate issues and insert issues, all regular copies, none signed. Malone always sent me issues in exchange for my small press stuff and then after his death I bought the ones I was missing from his daughter. She made a special deal for the regulars who'd been in the mag a lot. Any issue for $2, as long as we didn't run right out and resell it. I should have bought a complete run but just filled in my Bukowski collection. Very generous of her.
Yes indeed. $2 or $15 are still great prices. I spent about six months trying to round up the issues Buk appeared in, and I managed to get about 50 of them (just about half, but almost all of the significant ones). I've had to take a break on these, but I will say that Wormwoods are really worth it. Gerald Locklin, David Barker, Steve Richmond and others are well represented as well.
Rekrab
Usually wrong.
I always felt very honored to appear alongside of greats like Bukowski, Richmond, Locklin, and so many others. Wormwood was the pinnacle for a poet. You couldn't land in a better mag.
At the time Marvin Malone's daughter made that special offer to regulars, the Bukowski issues were already going for good money. She could have gotten a lot more for them. I think she did it as a tribute to her dad and as a way to pay back the poets for helping to make the magazine what it was. I thought it was a classy move.
At the time Marvin Malone's daughter made that special offer to regulars, the Bukowski issues were already going for good money. She could have gotten a lot more for them. I think she did it as a tribute to her dad and as a way to pay back the poets for helping to make the magazine what it was. I thought it was a classy move.
bospress.net
www.bospress.net
I have a full set. #1 & #2 are fascimilies made by Marvin Malone (limited to 30 copies) as originals were impossible to find as early as the early 60's.
Bill
Bill
bospress.net
www.bospress.net
Bucholics and Cheromanics by Marvin Malone, Illustrated with woodcuts by A. Sypher (Marvin Malone), published by Hors Commerce Press 1963. Perfect bound.
Yep, I have it...
Bill
Yep, I have it...
Bill
Rekrab
Usually wrong.
That's the one. I should have known you'd have it. Not many of those around.
Perfect bound? I seem to remember my copy as being stapled, and when I opened it at the back, the endpaper pulled away a bit from the staple, tearing the paper. It's a fragile binding as I recall. I'll hunt for my copy and check that. Possibly more than one version of the book was issued?
Marvin's book is both stapled and perfect bound. The pages are stapled on the edge (not saddlestitched) and then glued into the covers so the staples don't show. Unless you open it too wide and it tears.
It's a beautiful little book, nicely printed, with great woodcuts.
Perfect bound? I seem to remember my copy as being stapled, and when I opened it at the back, the endpaper pulled away a bit from the staple, tearing the paper. It's a fragile binding as I recall. I'll hunt for my copy and check that. Possibly more than one version of the book was issued?
Marvin's book is both stapled and perfect bound. The pages are stapled on the edge (not saddlestitched) and then glued into the covers so the staples don't show. Unless you open it too wide and it tears.
It's a beautiful little book, nicely printed, with great woodcuts.
That was quite different then I'm used to from Bukowski. I liked it. A desperation to be understood. Liked this a lot. Thanks for sharing, Purple.
You know, when I initially posted it, I described it as "not one of his best." But in reading it a few times over the last several months (I read Wormies on the can), it really works for me, so maybe it is one of his best. Along with 50 or so others, of course.
The pub I frequent has a waitress who also reads Buk, and every time I go in there we talk about him; his work. And every time she asks me "What's your favorite piece this week" ... and it's never the same.
Thanks for sharing with us Purple. It's made my Saturday night. While everyone else is out acting patriotic for the one day a year they do so, I'm inside with a candle, my beer and my laptop. How romantically retro and not all at the same time.
Thanks for sharing with us Purple. It's made my Saturday night. While everyone else is out acting patriotic for the one day a year they do so, I'm inside with a candle, my beer and my laptop. How romantically retro and not all at the same time.