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wave-breakPoems
books of poetry sit dusty on my shelf written by Neruda, Hughes, and assorted others but another being sits there too it is Bukowski his seven or so books in my ownership slouched in the corner singing drunken tunes so, yes, this is another poem about my second father but it’s less about him, and more about the others, those books of poesy I could never finish sure, I’ll read the first section, maybe half of them, maybe all but the last little bit, but never the whole book, cover to cover. I don’t know why, money down the drain really, and yet, I don’t regret it maybe I’m not cultured, slumming with henry and his gang of profanity and depression, to appreciate how and what they’re writing but when I go back, after reading the poems for a little bit before bed, I find that I can go to sleep when I put down the works of Longfellow or Cummings. but when I finally silence Bukowski, all I can do is write until my hands bleed so much it hurts, or my mind works to exhaustion while my body falls to shambles
0
Jan 30, 2011
Jan 30, 2011 at 6:43 AM UTC
ode to the bookshelf
books of poetry sit dusty on my shelf written by Neruda, Hughes, and assorted others but another being sits there too it is Bukowski his seven or so books in my ownership slouched in the corner singing drunken tunes so, yes, this is another poem about my second father but it’s less about him, and more about the others, those books of poesy I could never finish sure, I’ll read the first section, maybe half of them, maybe all but the last little bit, but never the whole book, cover to cover. I don’t know why, money down the drain really, and yet, I don’t regret it maybe I’m not cultured, slumming with henry and his gang of profanity and depression, to appreciate how and what they’re writing but when I go back, after reading the poems for a little bit before bed, I find that I can go to sleep when I put down the works of Longfellow or Cummings. but when I finally silence Bukowski, all I can do is write until my hands bleed so much it hurts, or my mind works to exhaustion while my body falls to shambles
wave-break
Written by
wave-break
American
Jan 30, 2011
Jan 30, 2011 at 6:43 AM UTC
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