Today in that space between the end of BE.aGaIN and the release of Unreconciled Doors * in three days time, I attempt to go behind the lines of a partial fragment or orphaned Ode. Today’s piece is an insecure, anxious loner-“Unsure”-Fragment number five of seven.
I will admit, first and foremost, that this fragment could not have been written without reading Bukowski. His work is an extraordinary treasure trove for the poet. His workaday, some would say- down trodden, haphazard and alcohol and addiction fuelled life gave rise to some incredible, unique work.It is fascinating that such an imaginative intellect, a man you have visions of chaining himself to the typewriter, existed in (and perhaps created for himself) a turbulent and every shifting landscape of chaos and instant gratification-whether that was in his bed, at a bar or a morning at the dog track.
His eye for what others were blind to and his brutal, brutal honesty about himself and others is simply mesmeric- eliciting deep thought, laughter or the hint of a tear depending on which of his varied pieces you are reading. (I mean who else could go from writing “The Shit Shits” to creating an imagined conversation with Vincent Van Gogh)
So I bow to Bukowski in “Unsure”. In my piece, the poet (me) is unsure of two things-1/ what will kill him first?-an addictive, life shortening consumable or loneliness and 2/ a more abstract construct question the necessity of -“doubt” and “reason”, reaching the assertion that we will all die one day anyway.
I am of the opinion that we are all permanent souls living in a temporary body anyway and have never been afraid of death, so I think that this is where the second line came from.
*Unreconciled Doors is available to pre-order in Kindle format now on Amazon for just $€£ 0.99