as the poems go
by Charles Bukowski
- as the poems go into the thousands you
- realize that you've created very
- little.
- it comes down to the rain, the sunlight,
- the traffic, the nights and the days of the
- years, the faces.
- leaving this will be easier than living
- it, typing one more line now as
- a man plays a piano through the radio,
- the best writers have said very
- little
- and the worst,
- far too much.