Charles Bukowski - Screams From the Balcony: Selected letters, 1960-1970

In mid-1958, the time of the earliest letters available, Bukowski had recently begun working in the post office in a permanent position as a mail sorter, after an earlier spell of three years as a mail carrier. Not long before, he had resumed writing after a ten-year interval, and by now had a handful of little magazine publications. E. V. Griffith, editor of Hearse magazine, had agreed to do a chapbook. But the delay in publication was to test Bukowskis patience to the limit. He finally received his authors copies in October, 1960 .

Until May 1, 1964, Bukowskis letters are dated from 1623 N. Mariposa Avenue, Los Angeles 27, California .

(The following letter is printed in full.)

[To E. V. Griffith]
June 6, 1958

Dear E. V. Griffith:

Here are some more. Thanks for returning others. No title ideas yet. Post office pen no damn good. Trying to sayno title ideas yet.

Fire, Fist and Bestial Wail ? No. Thought about using title of one of my short storiesConfessions of a Coward and Man Hater. No.

The Mourning, Morning Sunrise. No.

I dont know, E. V.

I dont know.

Anyhow, Im thinking about it.

Sincerely,
Charles Bukowski

Gil Orlovitz (1918-1973) frequently published pamphlets of verse .

[To E. V. Griffith]

July 9, 1958

I still think Flower, Fist and Bestial Wail just about covers the nature of my work. If you object to this title Ill send along some others.

Im quite pleased with your selections. The Birds, which I had just written, I like personally but I found others would not like this type of thing because of its philosophical oddity. Poem, by the way, is factual and not fictional. All of my stuff you have is, except 59 and drinks & [Some Notes of Dr.] Klarstein.

Thanks for sending Arrows of Longing .

As to Orlovitz, I find him at his best, very good. Certainly his delivery seems original.

Do you have my short stories about anywhere?

I suppose I mentioned I unloaded one at Coastlines and a couple at Views (Univ. of Louisville), but I think what you picked is pretty much my best stuff, and I have been honored to have been singled out by you and gathered up this way.

Griffith published Carl Larsens Arrows of Longing as Hearse Chapbook no. 1 in 1958. He was also the editor of Gallows, in the first issue of which Bukowski had two poems printed .

[To E. V. Griffith]

August 10, 1959

Verification of existence substantiated.

I am alive and drinking beer. As to the literary aspect, I have appeared recently in Nomad #1, Coastlines (spring 59), Quicksilver (summer 59) and Epos (summer 59). I havent submitted further to you because I have sensed that you are overstocked.

There are 10 or 12 other magazines that have accepted my stuff but as you know there is an immense lag in some cases between acceptance and publication. Much of this type of thing makes one feel as if he were writing into a void. But thats the literary life, and were stuck with it.

I am looking forward, of course, to the eventual chapbook, and I hope it moves better for you than the Larsen thing. Of course, I dont consider Carl Larsen a very good writer and am always surprised when anyone does. But to hell with Larsen, now where was I? Oh yes, I have never received a copy of Gallows and since you say I have a couple in it, I would like a copy. Could you send one down?

Well, there really isnt much more to saythe horses are running poorly, the women are f/ruffing me up, the rents due, but as I said, Im still alive and drinking beer. Glad to get your card. Dont forget to send me to the Gallows . Thanx.

[To E. V. Griffith]

October 3, 1959

Dashing this off before going to the track with a couple of grifters. I hate these Saturdaysall the amateurs are out there with the greed glittering in their eyes, half-drunk on beer, pinching the women, stealing seats, screaming over nothing. [* * *]

Thanks for card and news of Hearse fame in Nation and Poetry (Ch.). Cant seem to find the correct issue of Nation for this but am still trying. Success is wonderful if we can achieve it without whoring our concepts. Keep publishing the good live poets as in the past.

[To E. V. Griffith]

early December, 59

Are you still alive?

Everything thats happening to me is banal or venal, and perhaps later a more flowery and poesy versificationright now drab and bare as the old-lady-in-the-shoes panties.

I dont know, theres one hell of a lot of frustration and fakery in this poetry business, the forming of groups, soul-handshaking, Ill print you if you print me, and wouldnt you care to read before a small select group of homosexuals?

I pick up a poetry magazine, flip the pages, count the stars, moon, and frustrations, yawn, piss out my beer and pick up the want-ads.

I am sitting in a cheap Hollywood apartment pretending to be a poet but sick and dull and the clouds are coming over the fake paper mountains and I peck away at these stupid keys, its 12 degrees in Moscow and its snowing; a boil is forming between my eyes and somewhere between Pedro and Palo Alto I lost the will to fight: the liquor store man knows me like a cousin: he cracks the paper bag and looks like a photograph of Francis Thompson.