A brief essay on a Charles Bukowski poem

The poet Charles Bukowski is quoted as once saying, "It's up to a man to create art if he's able, and not talk about it, which, it seems, he's always more than able.” However, much to the dismay of this notion, I counter Bukowski’s opinion with that of the necessity to “talk about” art in order to understand, and be ultimately moved, by any creative work, specifically his poem I’ve seen too many glazed-eye bums sitting under a bridge drinking cheap wine. By exploring this poem’s respected usage of narrative-addressing and adopting a post-structuralism approach in interpretation readers have a more defined aptness in understanding the poem’s principle architecture and will become more aware of new implications that, quite possibly, would go un-noticed during an initial reading.

The poem’s narration is in the first-person (note the usage of the pronouns “I”; “you”; and “we”). This type of narration, an addresser-centered approach, aims to place the reader directly within the scope of the main character to view situations, emotions, and thoughts within the vantage-point of the individual—essentially, one views the world as the main character does. Upon reading the poem one discerns that the addressing within the text (i.e. the narration) is monologic; the communication is between the addresser and the addressee with no inter-communication between the two parties—the narrator is the only “voice” heard within the poem. From this observation, readers can place attention on two main attributes of the narration: 1) the reader can focus on what the narrator explicitly states and 2) focus on what the narrator does not explicitly state. The latter is far more intriguing. It is in identifying “absences” and “gaps” within the poem that furthers the reader’s understanding(s) of this Bukowksi poem.

When examining the usage of language in the work we discover there are no rhyming patterns in the poem—it is a free-verse work. In addition to the free-verse structure, there is an absence of proper (or traditional) grammar when Bukowski forgoes capitalization with the first letter of the word that follows the end of a sentence: “have you seen the animal-eater.../ they show death. / and now I wonder…” (ll. 5-9). It would be a ridiculous to imply Bukowski simply forgot, or was not educated, that abstaining from this capitalization standard is a strict violation of grammatical norms. This suggests that this omission was intended. What one could discern from this observation is, possibly, that Bukowski is, for one, trying to rebel against the “chains of grammatical oppression” (which I find to be highly unlikely). Another could suggest that this might imply a psychological “dis-harmony” (on the part of the subject-narrator and/or Bukowski himself) corresponding to the dis-harmony of grammatical usage and a lack of rhythmic structure. However, I am more swayed with the notion that this is an example of regression, a more primitive usage (primitive is derived here from the absence of conforming to grammatical norms) of language corresponding to a more primitive state of being expressed in the work. This argument is strengthened when one examines the poem’s focus on death, “they show death” (l. 8) and consuming, “we consume animals / and then one of us / consumes the other” (ll. 16-8) which, traditionally, are two aspects that one could very easily harmonize with the notion of being primitive—the need to consume along with the inevitable reality of death. In addition, the lack of proper capitalization, and it’s primitiveness, parallels the early inclusion of the “animal-eater documentaries” (ll. 6-7) which I feel denotes television documentaries that shows the very basic (and primitive) need for animals to attack, kill, and eat other animals to ensure survival. This connotation established with the “animal-eater documentaries” becomes the basis for the poem’s dominant subject—the various degrees of “consumption” with the “new woman.”

A very notable absence in the text is the usage of details regarding the “new woman”: “you sit on the couch / with me / tonight / new woman.” (ll. 1-4). There is no mentioning of any physical characteristics or specific relation (minus the “my love” (l. 19) line which will be addressed below) of the woman-figure other than the fact that the woman is “new” (a new girlfriend? A new prostitute? A new friend? A newly reconciled long-lost family member?)—we are told seldom anything about this individual. I feel this is because the specific woman mentioned in the story is not overtly important—if she were she would be mentioned more prominently and with particular attention paid to explicitly describing “her” significance. Yet, the narrator uses the “woman” to expound upon the “eating” and “consumption” process that takes up the vast majority of the poem: “which animal of / us will eat the / other first” (ll. 10-2). Also, notice the pattern of the woman’s placement and usage within the poem. She is introduced in the beginning, catalyzing the moving towards the “animal-eater documentaries” (which introduced the connotations of death and consuming another for survival) and is re-introduced within the volleying of “consumption” between the two entities in the poem. This “new woman” exists in the text with a very sharp and direct association with the “physical” and “spiritual” consumption that is ultimately expressed—she is focused more as a symbol of that physical and spiritual consumption in the text and not a carbon-based female individual. From this standpoint, and correlating with the lack of details attributed to “her” in the story, I suggest the possibility that this “woman” is not, in fact, a woman but acts as a signifier for something else entirely.

If one were to replace the “woman” nouns and references in the poem with nouns signifying, let’s say, alcohol, narcotics, or pornography there would be a harmonious fit with no textual conflict because the absolute absence of details that would identify the “woman” as an actual biotic female are not present—the usage of the woman subject would serve as a “poetic lament” drawing on contextual usage of a “female” in describing non-sex related objects and/or themes (i.e. “she’s a beauty” when describing a newly purchased boat, commenting that “she was a mean wine” when referring to a not-so-agreeable Merlot one had last evening, etc.). This paradigm would also effectively explains the usage of “my love” (l. 19) not as an intimate addressing of an individual but as a poetic gesture. For example, if a devout patriotic American stated that he was “in love with Lady Liberty,” whom would he be referring to? I doubt he would have a physical attraction to the actual statue off Ellis Island in New York City but would instead refer, in an affectionate manner, to the concept, of freedom symbolized with a “woman,” i.e., Lady Liberty.

As stated earlier, the “new woman” is not the sole subject in the poem; the digression into “consumption” constitutes the main intention of the work to which the woman is attached with. There is both a “physical” and “spiritual” consumption at work: “and now I wonder / which animal of / us will eat the / other first/ physically and / last / spiritually?” (ll. 9-15). Although one could replace “new woman” with “CD player” and have no textual conflict (grammatically it fits fine) it would not amicably align with the “spiritual” degradation that is expressed. For that reason, there must be a subject-matter agreement that would also fulfill the “spiritual” side of the expressed “consumption.” That is why when I introduced the idea that “new woman” did not necessarily suppose a biotic female I used alcohol, narcotics, and pornography because they have very common, and a more acknowledged, spiritual debasement, in addition to a physical one, through the hands of addiction, compulsion, and obsession. Could the narrator (and, inductively, Bukowski himself) be commenting on the physical and spiritual taxation that an addiction carries with it? Very possibly. However, one cannot offer an explicit definitive affirmation of this. Because of the omission of detail attributed to the woman figure in the poem there is a large array of interpretations. However, one must acknowledge that this “new woman” could have been an actual woman. If so, the adjective “new” suggests there have been others in the past. With this in mind, and with the supplementation of the discussion regarding a physical and spiritual “consumption,” one could, very easily, feel that the narrator is implying a new girlfriend or a new prostitute (a possible source for “spiritual” consumption found in a biological female?)—there are possibilities.

Many critical approaches are available for the expert reader. However, one does not need to be professional critical analyst to appreciate poetry. Being aware of the authors organizational principles in the construction of narration and contemplating what is not admitted into a work are informative ways in which to immerse oneself into a greater understanding of that respected work. In engaging this Charles Bukowski poem by asking, “Who’s doing the addressing and who’s being addressed?,” and by deliberately centering attention to what is not the textually-based focus of that addressing we, by increasing our awareness of these features, increase the breadth of our comprehension and enjoyment.