Katherine's review
What Matters Most Is How Well You Walk Through the Fire
by Charles Bukowski
I agree. To borrow from TS Eliot, every once in a while in reading Bukowski one comes across sapphires in the mud.
Katherine's review
What Matters Most Is How Well You Walk Through the Fire by Charles Bukowski
Katherine's review
rating:
I'm almost afraid to admit I enjoy Bukowski (sometimes). So much of his work seems to be free-form whining about having the beershits or how women are insane (cry me a river, buddy). But every once in a while he lays it down with something so straight-up sublime that you can't dismiss the guy outright. Like the poem that gives this collection its title.
I also enjoy his "Great Poets Die in Steaming Pots of Shit" sensibility.
I also enjoy his "Great Poets Die in Steaming Pots of Shit" sensibility.
I agree. To borrow from TS Eliot, every once in a while in reading Bukowski one comes across sapphires in the mud.