The People Look Like Flowers At Last
New Poems
-
-
4.7 • 7 Ratings
-
-
- $14.99
-
- $14.99
Publisher Description
“if you read this after I am dead
It means I made it”
-“The Creation Coffin”
The People Look like Flowers at Last is the last of five collections of never-before published poetry from the late great Dirty Old Man, Charles Bukowski.
In it, he speaks on topics ranging from horse racing to military elephants, lost love to the fear of death. He writes extensively about writing, and about talking to people about writers such as Camus, Hemingway, and Stein. He writes about war and fatherhood and cats and women.
Free from the pressure to present a consistent persona, these poems present less of an aggressively disruptive character, and more a world-weary and empathetic person.
This final collection offers a rare look into Bukowski’s unfiltered world:
Raw and Honest Writing: Unflinching poems on love, loss, death, and survival, pulled from the depths of Bukowski’s final years.The Dirty Old Man Persona: Glimpses of the iconic, hard-drinking poet alongside a quieter, more world-weary and empathetic man few ever saw.Everyday Life and Literature: Meditations on horse racing and hangovers sit side-by-side with thoughts on Hemingway, Camus, and the brutal craft of writing.Iconic American Poetry: The definitive last word from the counter-culture legend, completing a lifetime of work that redefined the genre.
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
In a posthumously published poem, Bukowski says he's succeeded "If you read this after I am long dead." By that standard, he is indeed a success: this fifth and purportedly last posthumous book published since his death in 1994 offers his still-large audience more of what made Bukowski (1921 1994) and his hard-drinking alter ego Henry Chinaski famous, as chronicled, for example, in the films Barfly and Factotum. Rapid, chatty free verse records his devotion to racehorses, boxing and drinking; his sexual exploits and failures; his contempt for highbrow, hoity-toity literati, and his countervailing yearnings for literary fame. Early on, the poems show unapologetic nostalgia: in "the 1930s," "the landlord/ only got his rent/ when you had/ it." Some of the most memorable poems here record the poet's anxieties and delights while caring for his daughter. The final pages are devoted to fate, last things, old age, mortality and retrospectives on Bukowski's hard-drinking, prolific career: "we were not put here to/ enjoy easy days and/ nights." Bukowski's style did not change in his last years; readers who have already written him off are unlikely to change their minds. Fans, however, may discover one of his strongest, most affecting books.
