I can't think of any poet-recluses outside of one dead Jeffers. [Robinson Jeffers] The rest of them want to slobber over each other and hug each other. It appears to me that I am the last of the poet-recluses.
Charles Bukowskiand even the trees we walked under seemed less than trees and more like everything else.
Charles BukowskiI was a bore and didn't know when to smile or fake it. Or rather worse, I did but didn't.
Charles Bukowski