April 2011
32 posts
1 tag
For Jane: With All the Love I Had, Which Was Not Enough - Charles Bukowski
I pick up the skirt, I pick up the sparkling beads in black, this thing that moved once around flesh, and I call God a liar, I say anything that moved like that or knew my name could never die in the common verity of dying, and I pick up her lovely dress, all her loveliness gone, and I speak to all the...
1 tag
Girl on the Escalator
As I go to the escalator A young fellow and a lovely young girl Are ahead of me. Her pants, her blouse are skin-tight. As we ascend, she rests one foot On the step above and her behind Assumes a fascinating shape. The young man looks all around he appears worried, He looks at me. I look away. No, young man, I am not looking, I am not looking at your girl’s behind....
1 tag
You can’t miss what you forget.
There will be a lake, or perhaps a river, over which dragonflies and butterflies will flutter and flicker, and beside that there will be a windmill made of a crisp limestone. Maybe ivy will climb up its walls. There will be a scent of hyacinths and honeysuckle, and dandelion seeds will waltz with their feathers all through the air, occasionally catching themselves under the twinkling sunlight that...
1 tag
2 tags
1 tag
1 tag
1 tag
1 tag
March 2011
35 posts
