Truth

Bukowski, seems to me, a genius

perhaps greater than Hemingway, but no more

eloquent than a piece of

dung,

a piece of

leftover lemon chicken,

a piece of

nothing,

nothing more

than the

truth.

Simple truths and simple

words.

But, we are so very scared

to hear the truth, especially when

it makes us realize how

insignificant we truly are compared to

the continuous

tide low

tide high

infinitely sighing

groan

of the great big

Sea.