you were one of the best female poets and I told the publishers, editors, “ Her, print her, she’s mad but she’s magic, there’s no lie in her fire.” I loved you like a man loves a woman he never touches, only writes to, keeps little photographs of. I would have loved you more if I had sat in a small room rolling a cigarette and listened to you piss in the bathroom, but that didn’t happen.
- Charles Bukowski, from An Almost Made Up Poem
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Traffic Light I
Your name explodes as a dramatic exclamation mark At times, a sandy whisper at times a blinking red man, that teased to turn green
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