PBA Galleries

Two typed pages, second page signed at bottom in green pen, each page measuring 28x21.5 cm (11x8½"), with original mailing envelope.

The letter is dated at the top of first page in type: "god well sometime in May, maymaymaymay, sixtythree." In typical Bukowski fashion the first page of the letter is a work of art in and of itself, with poetic fragments typed along all the borders of the page, and an original poem centered in the middle of the sheet: "my horse ducked his head today/ at the wire/ difficult bastard/ drifted left/ that nose/ cost me/ one hundred/ dollars/ a very good suit/ 20 pieces of ass/ a drunk upon the spa/ with all men/ bowing// it is so sad/ go on (it is)/ sad to be/ broken again again/ bits of feed for the/ beaks.// friend, I am not done./ somewhere in the falling/ there is more than/ this paper god/ they hand me// I'll bet on/ it."  An excerpt from the second page: "I pretend that the blood from my mouth is bad teeth and the blood from my ass is from hemorrhoids and then I feel better and I take another drink. What man wants to waste his time in hospitals? I am not so particularly concerned with writing poetry as i am concerned  with standing around in the sun or just sleeping or getting drunk or looking at the poor face of some old woman I have just made love to and watching her yes eyes eating into my face, into my body, this delight delight, until I am ashamed and turn my eyes down. I am tired as hell but the longer I live the more something begins to take shape." He ends the letter with another poem: "kitty, sleep your sleep./ the barn is burning./ hacksaws rusted/ and the frogs/ and the dogs/ and ourselves/ are the same." And, In closing: "I drink a beer to your wife/ who should be on some stage singing/ to kick the thing/ alive." The bottom of the page is signed "Buk" in green pen. The mailing envelope is date stamped May 8, 1963 and "Air Mail" is written in Bukowski's hand with green pen, outlined with an arrow pointing to the stamps pasted on the envelope.