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Homosexuals are delicate and bad poetry is delicate and [Allen] Ginsberg turned the tables by making homosexual poetry strong poetry, almost manly poetry but in the long run, the homo will remain the homo and not the poet.
Charles Bukowski
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Charles Bukowski
Age: 73 †
Born: 1920
Born: August 16
Died: 1994
Died: March 9
Actor
Author
Autobiographer
Columnist
Diarist
Journalist
Novelist
Poet
Screenwriter
Writer
Henry Charles Bukowski
Buk
charles bukowski
Turned
Homo
Poet
Homosexuals
Poetry
Allen
Almost
Manly
Making
Homosexual
Strong
Delicate
Running
Tables
Long
Remain
Ginsberg
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and our few good times will be rare because we have the critical sense and are not easy to fool with laughter
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If I hadn't been a drunkard, I probably would have committed suicide long ago.
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It’s so easy to be easy—if you let it.
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nothing can save you except writing. it keeps the walls from failing.
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there are policemen in the street and angels in the clouds
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t was almost disappointing because it seemed when stress and madness were eliminated from my daily life there wasn't much left you could depend on.
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I can almost understand why people leap from bridges.
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I've never met another man I'd rather be.
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I can't blame her. but wonder why she's here with me? where are the other guys? how can you be lucky? having someone the others have abandoned?
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There's a small balcony here, the door is open and I can see the lights of the cars on the Harbor Freeway south, they never stop, that roll of lights, on and on. All those people. What are they doing? What are they thinking? We're all going to die, all of us, what a circus! That alone should make us love each other but it doesn't.
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I didn't have any friends at school, didn't want any. I felt better being alone. I sat on a bench and watched the others play and they looked foolish to me.
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Her one drink had Cecelia giggling and talking and she was explaining that animals had souls too. Nobody challenged her opinion. It was possible, we knew. What we weren't sure of was if we had any.
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If I never see you again I will always carry you inside outside on my fingertips and at brain edges and in centers centers of what I am of what remains.
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and love was lightning and remembrance
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the whole world is caught in her glance and at last the universe is magnificent.
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