G.Scelsa
11-21-2010, 09:25 AM
There is only one Bukowski
There is only one Carver
There is only one Dostoevskij
They look at us from the Olympus’ mount
and you,
you are standing on the pavement,
lifted few centimeters from the street’s level
It’s no use staring at the peak,
it would be better to get off that step
and recognize your own failure
There is only one Bukowski
There is only one Carver
There is only one Dostoevskij
Write and rewrite
Read and reread
you are trying to make your compositions look decent
You know they are rubbish
You know they are brilliant
You know you should give up
You know you should persist
There is only one Bukowski
There is only one Carver
There is only one Dostoevskij
You might do it for the celebrity,
you might not
You might do it to communicate,
trying to speak a language
which connects you with your fellows
Perhaps,
you should know that is dangerous to mix with the Gods
There is only one Bukowski
There is only one Carver
There is only one Dostoevskij
Hank Chinaski had his own editor,
Carver had Gordon Lish,
Fijodor Dostoevskij I don’t know
I suppose that he had someone too
And you?
No mentor on the horizon
Just a collection of recorded mail
and a couple of rejections from editors,
to whom goes the merit
for having at least tried to understand your language
There is only one Bukowski
There is only one Carver
There is only one Dostoevskij
Therefore you ask yourself why are you doing so,
and this,
it’s the only time you have an answer
There is only one Bukowski
There is only one Carver
There is only one Dostoevskij
You are doing so,
to have a chance
You are doing so,
to speak the language of Charles, Ray and Fijodor
and to ask them
in the most serious way you can managed
whether in the Olympus
there are any pavements
There is only one Carver
There is only one Dostoevskij
They look at us from the Olympus’ mount
and you,
you are standing on the pavement,
lifted few centimeters from the street’s level
It’s no use staring at the peak,
it would be better to get off that step
and recognize your own failure
There is only one Bukowski
There is only one Carver
There is only one Dostoevskij
Write and rewrite
Read and reread
you are trying to make your compositions look decent
You know they are rubbish
You know they are brilliant
You know you should give up
You know you should persist
There is only one Bukowski
There is only one Carver
There is only one Dostoevskij
You might do it for the celebrity,
you might not
You might do it to communicate,
trying to speak a language
which connects you with your fellows
Perhaps,
you should know that is dangerous to mix with the Gods
There is only one Bukowski
There is only one Carver
There is only one Dostoevskij
Hank Chinaski had his own editor,
Carver had Gordon Lish,
Fijodor Dostoevskij I don’t know
I suppose that he had someone too
And you?
No mentor on the horizon
Just a collection of recorded mail
and a couple of rejections from editors,
to whom goes the merit
for having at least tried to understand your language
There is only one Bukowski
There is only one Carver
There is only one Dostoevskij
Therefore you ask yourself why are you doing so,
and this,
it’s the only time you have an answer
There is only one Bukowski
There is only one Carver
There is only one Dostoevskij
You are doing so,
to have a chance
You are doing so,
to speak the language of Charles, Ray and Fijodor
and to ask them
in the most serious way you can managed
whether in the Olympus
there are any pavements