This story is fiction, and any events or near-similar events in actual life which did transpire have not prejudiced the author toward any figures involved or uninvolved; in other words, the mind, the imagination, the creative facilities have been allowed to run freely, and that means invention, of which said is drawn and caused by living one year short of half a century with the human race . . . and is not narrowed down to any specific case, cases, newspaper stories, and was not written to harm, infer or do injustice to any of my fellow creatures involved in circumstances similar to the story to follow.

(Charles Bukowski, "The Murder Of Ramon Vasquez")

domingo, 9 de outubro de 2011

A musa canta nas horas mais impróprias

Nenhum comentário:
Avenida Brasil
Rápido na van
Gelado de ar-condicionado
E música ruim

Escuro lá fora
Carros que passam rápido
E o pensamento nela
Nos neóns dos moteis

Preso no veículo
A caminho de casa
Como desabafar?
E os versos brotam

Sem papel, sem tinta
Contudo os reservo
Para o momento adequado
Deixo-os guardados

Não foram embora, os versos
Deposito-os cuidadoso
Até a hora chegar
De colocar no papel.

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