}
};
once
we were young
at this
machine...
drinking
smoking
typi ng
it was a most
splendid
miraculous
time
still
is
only now
instead of
moving toward
time
it
moves toward
us
makes each word
drill
into the
paper
clear
fast
hard
feeding a
closing
space.
Luck
Charles Bukowski
(1)
Poem topics: space, young, fast, clear, hard, paper, time, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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