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 Jan 2018 CJ Tims
Sarah Tayler
i remember.
i remember every kiss
every touch
every sound
every single piece of moment memory
i remember
and now, i must forget
its not about pretty words. its about blatant truth.
 Dec 2017 CJ Tims
JB Claywell
I watched my very own
Charles Bukowski
eat a tangerine outside of  
the arthouse  
where we were reading.

His name is not really Bukowski,
but he has told tales in the same  
vein as the Laureate of Drunkards
for longer than I have been alive.

I have listened to that same back alley
patois,
and barroom wisdom for long
enough that I feel a certain level  
of comfort in calling the old gizzard  
this municipality's own  
Charles Bukowski.

The grizzled old poet  
is telling wanton tales  
of love and honeydew.

He goes on and on,
recounting the times  
that he's drunk  
strong potato liquor
with Bengal tigers  
in the backseats  
of roaring taxis
on his way to parties  
hosted by zebras and  
gazelles.

We each light a cigarette,
pausing to smoke for a while.

Seeking to continue  
the conversation with  
my salty comrade,  
yet knowing my own  
stories cannot compete,
I surge onward nonetheless.

His interruptions jam my  
traffic before I can even make  
it onto the onramp of his  
particular, peculiar highway.

His mouth is already working,
though his tangerine consumed.

He's chewing his next story into
digestible, deliverable bits.

And, now he's chewing the rind.

His mouth,
his words,
his life,
and my own for all of it,
is full of  
zest.

*

-JBClaywell
©P&ZPublications 2017
for David, the tiger.
 Oct 2017 CJ Tims
cptims
you were
clumsy & dainty
vibrant & caring
just like a yellow dandelion
dancing in the wind
without a care in the world
until one day
you began to turn grey
& everything started to change
you were now
careful & rustic
dull & negligent
you acted like a burden
no longer cheerful
& dissatisfied with everything
what happened to that yellow dandelion
i once knew?
just felt the need to write & this is what spilled out. enjoy :)).

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