Slouching Toward Nirvana: New Poems

Most poets are struggling to get anything published and can hardly afford to send out less than their best work; so I have to marvel at a poet who intentionally holds back his best for publication after his death. But that's apparently what Bukowski did. I'm curious how many more poems he marked for posthumous release, but I'm not aware if John Martin has said. At any rate, the current batch is topnotch Bukowski and essential to any collection of his work. In the past, one of my pleasures on finding a new Bukowski volume was to note the author photo, which changed from book to book. Now I get the impression that the official photo will be that of of the more avuncular-looking, white-haired Buk wearing his old-man windbreaker and gazing benignly at the camera.

I keep coming back to Buk after intervals - this collection is packed with gems - scathing attacks on humanity and its parade of fools. Lonely, introspective poems that reveal the vast emptiness of the universe and the soul. I have a few volumes of Buk's stuff and can't afford to buy them all but when I flipped through the pages of Slouching ... I had to have it. You will not be disappointed if you are a fan of poems by Trakl, Rilke, Holderlin etc... Bukowski is one of the giants.