Thursday, August 28, 2003


when this Bukowski posting began, i started looking through old notebooks for a dream i had some years ago about him. i almost gave up looking, but found it this morning. here it is:

October 10, 1996

dreamt i came home to find pencils i bought last week hanging from the ceiling in a mobile turning slowly on a breeze, i remember realizing i couldn't feel the breeze, but the pencils turned above me and there were a couple of white feathers in the mobile, and the wire was held together with hair pins, so i knew there was someone else in the apartment. i pulled a pencil from the mobile but had to replace it with chewing gum and other little things, to keep the mobile balanced and turning. i sat down to write in my notebook and noticed a stack of books on the floor, near where i was sitting. none of the books were facing me, so i had to flip them around, and EVERY BOOK was a Charles Bukowski book. but i only owned one Bukowski book i was sure of it. there were at least a dozen Bukowski books there, all Black Sparrow editions, of course. does anyone else publish him? i'm pretty sure that's his main press at least. anyway, i picked through the pile and came to one titled NEW POEMS, and it was warm. it was actually warmer than warm, more like hot, but not too hot that i couldn't handle it and i felt the floor beneath it, but the floor was not hot. it was just the book that was giving off the heat. when i opened the first page it was a scramble of words. i closed the page, reopened it, and the words were in a different order. i closed the book to make sure i wasn't crazy, but of course i wasn't crazy, i was only dreaming, why am i always worried that i'm crazy when i'm dreaming? need to think about that. but it was a book by Bukowski simply called NEW POEMS that would scramble the words all over the pages in a different order each time it was closed and reopened. have to remember to ask Katherine what she thinks about all this, she's good at dream interpretation.


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