Splash

the illusion is that you are simply

reading this poem

the reality is that this is

more than a

poem.

this is a beggar's knife.

this is a tulip.

this is a soldier marching

through Madrid.

this is you on your

death bed.

this is Li Po laughing

underground.

this is not a god-damned

poem.

this is a horse asleep.

a butterfly in

your brain.

this is the devil's

circus.

you are not reading this

on a page.

the page is reading

you.

feel it?

it's like a cobra. it's a hungry eagle circling the room.

this is not a poem.

poems are dull,

they make you sleep.

these words force you

to a new

madness.

you have been blessed, you have been pushed into a

blinding area of

light.

the elephant dreams

with you

now.

the curve of space

bends and

laughs.

you can die now.

you can die now as

people were meant to

die:

great,

victorious,

hearing the music,

being the music,

roaring,

roaring,

roaring.

Charles Bukowski (1920-1994)