I read this Bukowski poem in one of those huge collections at a large chain bookstore, and I've tried to find it again since then to no avail. It is making me insane. I can't even remember which book it was, so I have no way to look for it again.
I *thought* it was called "Venti", but a search of such a title has yielded nada.
The poem went like this:
And sometimes I think of an easier kind of love
One that feels like falling asleep asleep in a chair
Or sitting in a church full of windows
It is not much longer than this, just worded much more beautifully. Is ANYONE familiar with this? Or at least the book in which I can find it? Please, please, a thousand pleases--help me!
I *thought* it was called "Venti", but a search of such a title has yielded nada.
The poem went like this:
And sometimes I think of an easier kind of love
One that feels like falling asleep asleep in a chair
Or sitting in a church full of windows
It is not much longer than this, just worded much more beautifully. Is ANYONE familiar with this? Or at least the book in which I can find it? Please, please, a thousand pleases--help me!
