A Line for Bukowski

A Line for Bukowski

A Poem by Hollow Man

I sit here, somewhere,
listening to Dirty Rain,
reminding my hand
not to ash on the carpet.

'I'm proud of you' she says.
I've forgotten--
so many things.
'but you just missed our turn'.

All rain sounds the same--
it's in what it hits
that matters most.
My heel grinds ash

into dirty carpet.

© 2013 Hollow Man


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Added on May 27, 2013
Last Updated on May 27, 2013

Author

Hollow Man
Hollow Man

Stafford, VA



About
I was born an old soul. Such is life. I live in a wasteland town in Northern Virginia. Poetry is solace. I run an online literary journal titled Toska with my best friend, which is now accepting submi.. more..

Writing
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A Chapter by Hollow Man