little bukowski’s
so many of us
are little bukowski’s these days
with poems about
the women we treat badly
and copious amounts of alcohol
poems about run down apartments and shitty jobs
little bukowski’s railing against mankind
our contributor pictures shows us
all looking the same
little bearded and tatooed bukowski’s
with smartphones and twitter accounts
sitting at bars smoking cigarettes
or hoisting up an import beer
looking clueless, sullen
trying so hard to be at odds with the world
we tell everyone how much
we hate the other poets
little bukowski’s
who have no room for our contemporaries
there are so many of us
it’s hard to tell the bad from the good
because we’re all just mediocre copycats
our proof smeared in little journals
that disappear overnight
the poems on our blogs all bleeding
right into one another
little bukowski’s alone with everyone
it’s becoming harder and hard
to read all of us little bukowski’s
sitting at the vanguard of tired bullshit
hoping that this is exactly how hank did it
most of us never really knowing
what a true hangover feels like of course
we have nothing new to add
except ten new poems a day
to our facebook account
we’re just more of the same
little bukowski’s through and through
though none of us will admit it
because when someone asks us
who are favorite writer is
we never say bukowski
we always tell them it’s john fante
some of us say raymond carver.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
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1 comment:
After all this time, I still have an icon to quickly get me to Bukowski. I don't like the guy, but he was a great talent. The more I dislike him, the more I love his work.
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