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Charles Bukowski talking about love.So, I took a poetry seminar – can you imagine? – with Allen Ginsberg, who lived here in New York in this shitty place near Avenue D on the Lower East Side near my office. Ginsberg was the saddest human being I’d ever met – a busted, empty monument, closed for repairs that would never happen. Ginsberg would read us really bad poems by Jack Kerouac and would start crying. Unlike Kerouac, Ginsberg missed his chance to die young.
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