A canary flew in my window and sat at my desk with me. It said, who are you? I replied, I'm a base poet that's been dropped on his head by life a few times. Eyes like a kicked dog, and a beard that doesn't grow straight.
It chirped like a Bach concerto, and said, ah yes, we are all just dead birds at the bottom of a cage, tiny lice crawling through our eyes. No song. No light.
I said, you're a strange little fellow. And we sat there, like that, waiting for 6:00 am so, I could make a beer run.
Thomas,
I appreciate the Bukowski attitude. We never walk on smooth ground, everything is sharp-edged gravel and it hurts when we do our best to move on, grab another cheap beer, look for beauty, but through a dirty window, so the only thing left to do is write some of it down for our private community of fellow travelers...
Vol
It could be spiritual because the bird in Indian belief can escape man with their wings yes kick the dog because the dog can make the bird fly away because man with buck shot will bring the bird down, so for us to drink our sorrows is to have some more fire water. Thank You for sharing.
Yeah but you do have a knack for words, poetry is always open to interpretation sometimes it may not.. read moreYeah but you do have a knack for words, poetry is always open to interpretation sometimes it may not what you meant but what touch the reader and that's brings joy to the writer
Thomas W. Case was born in Oxnard. He has published 3 volumes of poetry. The Bullfrog Dreams of Flying, Artichokes, Avocados, and Van Gogh, and Seedy Town Blues. He has won several poetry contests. Hi.. more..