these punks
these cowards
these champions
these mad dogs of glory
moving this little bit of light toward
us
impossibly.
beasts bounding through time—, pp. 21-22.

...I thought, if being a bum is to be the
opposite of what this son-of-a-bitch
is, then that's what I'm going to
be.
and it's too bad he's been dead
so long
for now he can't see
how beautifully I've succeeded
at
that.
my non-ambitious ambition, p. 28.

now
they are celebrating my demise
in taverns I no longer
frequent ...
now
my once-promise
dwindling
dwindling
cornered, pp. 42-43.

the problem that I've found with
most poets that I've known is that
they've never had an 8 hour job
termites of the page, p. 48.

looking upward at the ceiling
I get what many will consider an
obnoxious thought:
it's still nice to be
Bukowski.
well, that's just the way it is ..., p. 65.

we were...