fax from the dead

rare Bukowski stuff always floats the boat here. I love the DIRTY OLD MAN to distraction and his books fill great stretches of my shelves. it's a little sad each time another posthumous collection is dredged up and published. the quality declines as the digging uncovers bits probably not meant to see the light of day. but there are always a few of the old flashes of madness, gamble and simplicity among the relatively less wonderful words. 


today, out of nowhere, the pleasure of stumbling upon something rare, blogged almost a year ago by Los Angeles bookseller Stephen J. Gertz at Booktryst. 


Gertz presents what seems to be Bukowski's last ever poem, sent by fax to his publisher John Martin just eighteen days before Hank died:


oh, forgive me For Whom the Bell Tolls,
oh, forgive me Man who walked on water,
oh, forgive me little old woman who lived in a shoe,
oh, forgive me the mountain that roared at midnight,
oh, forgive me the dumb sounds of night and day and death,
oh, forgive me the death of the last beautiful panther,
oh, forgive me all the sunken ships and defeated armies,
this is my first FAX POEM.
It's too late:
I have been
smitten.


Gertz asked Martin for some background. The Black Sparrow founder explained: 

"On February 18, 1994 Hank had a fax machine installed at his home. He sent me his first fax message in the form of that poem. I'm sure he visualized sending me his future letters and poems via fax, but sadly 18 days later he was gone. I ran off nine photocopies of the fax, for a total of ten, and numbered and initialed them. Over the next few months and years I gave copies to individuals who were Bukowski collectors and regular customers of Black Sparrow. I think I gave away the last one more than 10 years ago."

so the heart strings tug here at the thought of the Old Man of San Pedro, asking for forgiveness, hitting the send button, close to breathing his last.