Oh, Bukowski

As it appears in the 2012 American River Review

You silver-tongue drunk
serving your self-
   loathing like an aphrodisiac
Spreading women’s legs
to expose weathered cunts

Claiming Godhood
      and death
         laughing at
         and our
impotence until
      the fires burn out

Your painted pictures of the Basin
      as paradise
      with my
         ability to write as me

I read your poetry
               and wonder
which pieces you
               hated the most

A beach
      A bitch
            A bus
                  A bluebird

You labeled us all dead
         but who is in the coffin?

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