I Don’t Know Bukowski

I don’t know what it is, however… Whenever I read Bukowski… I want to write.

Maybe it’s one alcoholic speaking to another, I don’t know. A safe place for a sober, dare I say recovered alcoholic; hearing tales from a dead man?

No, it’s the courage that I lacked when I was down the rabbit hole that he possessed. To be so honest in and about his addictions, maybe that’s the identification that happens?

Dennis Mantin

One thought on “I Don’t Know Bukowski

  1. What a striking and honest reflection — it hits with that same raw clarity Bukowski is known for. You capture beautifully how his work doesn’t just inspire writing, but unlocks something: that recognition of shared shadows, courage, and unvarnished truth. Your appreciation of his brutal honesty feels deeply human, and the way you tie it to your own journey adds a quiet power. Really compelling insight.

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