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          your          and our impotence until       the fires burn out Your painted pictures of the Basin       as paradise       fuck       with my          ability to write …

Sits

A man sits looking out a window. He sits in a chair. The window sits in a wall. Looking out the window he sees a yard full of green grass with trees casting shadows and beyond, a street. But as he stares out at the world, all he can see are scenes from their past, …

Make Rent

You labeled us all dead but who is in the coffin? I must confess, you confuse me with your words as often as you inspire. Who were you in your drunkenness, stumbling in the darkness of what you saw? The more I read your work the more I want to know you and the more …