Alone with everybody

the flesh covers the bone
and they put a mind in there and
sometimes a soul,
and the women break
vases against the walls
and the men drink too much
and nobody finds the
one
but keep
looking
crawling in and out
of beds.
flesh covers
the bone and the
flesh searches
for more than
flesh.
there's no chance
at all:
we are all trapped
by a singular
fate.
nobody ever finds
the one.

the city dumps fill
the junkyards fill
the madhouses fill
the hospitals fill
the graveyards fill

nothing else
fills.

I Met A Genius

I met a genius on the train
today
about 6 years old,
he sat beside me
and as the train ran down along the coast
we came to the ocean
and then he looked at me
and said,
it's not pretty.

again...Charles Bukowski (1923 - 1994)

están en inglés por que no me gustan las traducciones que hay...