It comes from somewhere

Awesome poem I found by Charles Bukowski, I love this guy's style.

Probably from the belly button or the shoe under the
Bed, or maybe from the mouth of the shark or
the car crash on the avenue leaving blood and glass and memory.
It comes from love gone to the goat stable under an asphalt moon.
It comes from the flush of piss and shit
and the drain of dirty bathwater whirling.
It comes from screams stuffed with cotton.
It comes from hands without arms
and arms without bodies
and bodies without hearts.
It comes out of cannons and shotguns and old victrolas.
It comes from parasites with blue eyes and soft voices.
It comes from under the organ like a roach
It keeps coming
Its inside of sardine cans and letters
Its under your fingernails pressing blue and flat.
Smeared in brown.
Its the toy soldiers inside your head
Poking lead bayonets.
Its the first kiss and the last kiss and
The dogs guts like a river.
It comes from somewhere and it keeps
coming.