Maybe Bukowski?A Poem by Coyote PoetryYears ago. I met Bukowski in California. I didn't know who he was, at the time. He read my work and he told me. Good stuff and we talked. Maybe the California coastline I need today.Maybe Bukowski? The silence poet read his words on the first Tuesday night of each month. Otherwise his voice is quiet, he prefer the Salinger way over Hemingway loudness. He wants to be Bukowski, be brave and write gritty and dirty poetry. He knows, people fear the truth. He told the listeners on Tuesday night, most of us love the dirt more than the sweetness. Easy to digest. Once he was called the dark poet of Monterey and now he the old poet of the Lake St. Clair. He wonder why did Hemingway hide at the end of his life? Did his own words kill him? Salinger tried to kill himself a few times. Few know, he was a man of war. He saw the blood, he touched the blood and he never was right. Maybe I will follow the Bukowski path. Just wait for death and write. Dancing Coyote © 2020 Coyote PoetryAuthor's Note
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Added on May 23, 2020Last Updated on June 15, 2020 AuthorCoyote PoetryMIAboutA Poet and writer who love to read and write. My pleasure is reading about the bad and good in a life. Also to honor the Poets/Writers of the past by reading their words. Remember .. more..Writing
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