This is one of my favorite poems by Charles Bukowski and I don’t even care how he may have been in real life but it speaks to me.
I think that’s one of the beautiful things about poetry. Some may not care for it, but some of us will take from it whatever we can.
Read by Tom O’Bedlam with some NSFW images… and typewriters
Edited to add: Naked women and typewriters… Who knew they worked so well together?