Bukowski and Peanuts

Charles Bukowski is one of those poets that's really grown on me. He's great, he's raw and he's really really crude, but in context almost anything is forgivable, especially in poetry lol

so, I stumbled upon a series of poems he wrote about the Peanuts gang, they're quite good. here's one of the tamer ones lol

Snoopy

The Daisy Hill Puppy Farm was way up in the Hollywood Hills. When Charlie Branaski’s parents drove them all in their beat-up sedan it took about two hours to get there. Charlie jumped out of the car and ran right up to where all the pups were playing. He saw a white beagle playing the mouth-harp. The pup had a black spot on one side and black ears, a little pot belly and a big muzzle. Charlie pointed out the cur with one chubby finger and that was that. . .

“This God damned dog.”

Charles Branaski worked the crank of the cheap metal can opener and watched the can of dog food slowly rotate. He cut his finger on the lid, just like he always did, and cursed and sucked on it as he dumped the slop into the dog’s bowl.

He carried the bowl outside and thumped it down outside the doghouse. Snoopy was, as usual, sleeping up on the roof, not a care in the world. He smelled the food and sat up and yawned, hopped down and started eating.

“You’re a real piece of work,” said Charlie. “You stupid dog, you get invited out every night, stay out till all hours, come home when you please. It’s enough to drive me crazy. You don’t care a lick about me, cooped up in my shack drinking alone all night.”

The dog finished his supper and disappeared into the doghouse. A minute later, he walked out wearing a leather jacket and dark glasses and padded right past Branaski and out the gate.

“You ungrateful son of a bitch. I oughta let you starve.”