New Mexico Poem by Charles Bukowski

Charles Bukowski – New Mexico

I was fairly drunk when it
began and I took out my bottle and used it
along the way. I was reading a week or two after
Kandel and I did not look quite as
pretty but
I brought it off and we
ended up at the Webbs, 6, 8, 10 of
us, and I drank scotch, wine, beer, tequila
and noticed a nice one sitting next to me –
one tooth missing when she smiled,
lovely, and I put my arm around her
and began loading her with bullshit.
when I awakened at 10 a.m. the next morning
I was in a strange house
in bed with this
woman. she was asleep but looked
familiar.
I got up and here was one kid running around in a
crib and another one running around the floor in
pajamas. I picked up a letter addressed to one
“Betsy R.”, so I went back and said,
“hey, Betsy, there are kids running around all over
this place.”
“oh Hank, damn it, I’m sick. I want to sleep, not
rap.”
“but look, the …”
“make yourself some
coffee.”
I put the pot on and the little boy ran up in his
pajamas. I found a shirt and some pants and some
shoes and
dressed him.
then I cleaned a bottle with hot water, filled it
with milk and gave it to the kid in the
crib. he went for
it.
then I went in and squeezed her
hand. “I’ve got to go. are you all
right ?”
“yes, a little sick. but please don’t feel
bad.”
I called a yellow cab and we went back across
town.
is this what happened to
D. Thomas ? I thought.
if a man didn’t think too much he could be proud of his little
conquests –
except that the women were better than we – asking nothing
as we squirted our poetry
our bullshit our
sperm to
them.
we were sick poets sick
people.
across town I knocked on the door of my host and
hostess.
“what happened ?” they
asked.
“nothing. got
lost.”
they sat a beer in front of me
and I drank it as if I were
wordly:
a piece-of-ass
any-night
anywhere
type.
“somebody got a
cigarette ?” I asked.
“sure, sure.”
I lit up and asked,
“heard from Creely
lately ?”
not giving a damn whether they had
***

Posted in art music poetry, Charles Bukowski, Famous Poets, Poetry Posts

Bukowski Poems

8 Count
A Challenge To The Dark
A Following
A Radio With Guts
A Smile to Renember
Alone With Everybody
An Almost Made Up Poem 
And The Moon And The Stars And The World
ANOTHER BED
Another Day
Are You Drinking?
AS CRAZY AS I EVER WAS
As The Poems Go
As The Sparrow
At the track today
Back to the Machine Gun
BAD TIMES AT THE 3RD AND VERMONT HOTEL
Be Angry At San Pedro
Be Kind
BEER
Big Night On The Town
Bluebird Poem
Cause And Effect
Confession
Cows In Art Class
Cut While Shaving
Death of an idiot
Death Wants More Death
Eat Your Heart Out This is It
Flophouse
For The Foxes
Freedom  and He Drank Wine All Night
Gamblers All Not Going to Make it
God I got the sad blue blues
Grief
Hell is a Lonely Place
I don’t know what to do
I Made A Mistake
In the hospitals and jails
Love & Fame & Death
man in the sun 
My Father
My First Affair With That Older Woman
My Groupie
New Mexico
NIGHT SCHOOL
Nirvana
 On Going Back To The Street After Viewing An Art Show
Question and Answer
Rain Or Shine Vultures at the Zoo
Roll the Dice
Ruin
SHE SAID
Short Order
Show Biz
Sleep
Some People Never Go Crazy
Sparrow
THE ALIENS
The Blackbirds are Rough Today
The Great Poet
The Great Slob
The History Of One Tough Motherfucker Stray Cat Poe
The Meek Shall Inherit The Earth
The Poetry Reading
The Secret Of My Endurance

The Shower
The wind blows hard tonight
They are building a house
They found him walking along the freeway
They only burn themselves to reach Paradise
This time has finished me
THOSE GIRLS WE FOLLOWED HOME
To the whore who took my s
Traffic report
Trapped don’t undress my love mannequin
Trash can
Upon reading a critical review
Van Gogh
We Ain’t Got No Money, Honey, But We Got Rain
what i liked about e.e. cummings
Who In The Hell Is Tom Jones
Young in New Orleans