The dim, weak light only appears beautiful when there is so much darkness surrounding it.
Fluorescence draws the eye to anything other than the light.
We can get so used to it.
We can make ourselves so blind.
But I would rather have a warm soft glow
Than the harsh phosphorescence of cylindrical bulbs
Snapping on strings above and about my head,
And I’d certainly rather have that
Watercolors drip down the white wall you’ve built between us
(at least you cared enough to make it beautiful)
And I only hope my cadence scribbled in Crayola will find it’s way to you.
Continue reading “Steel Blue”
No longer a dog
I’m beginning to think in color again
What’s your favorite
I’ll make it into a film to put over my eyeglasses
Even if it’s black
Sometimes the blind can see more than others
And I must be
Continue reading “Periwinkle”
If God were a man
He would look just like you
Except something tells me not even he could be as handsome.
But, if he dare be,
I’d start to pray again
With your name on the knuckles of my folded hands.
Continue reading “if god were a man”
michigan has two seasons:
winter and construction.
Charles Bukowski, 1920-1994
don't undress my love
you might find a mannequin:
don't undress the mannequin
you might find
she's long ago
she's trying on a new
and looks more the
she is a
and a mannequin
I can't hate
she didn't do
I only wanted her
Anyone familiar with Bukowski knows his often abrasive, raunchy, nihilistic style. However, this specific work is different in that it deals with themes of love in a more direct and clear way than he may have done in other pieces. Published in his collection Ham on Rye in 1982, towards the end of his life, Bukowski shows a more vulnerable side to his art that he hadn’t in earlier poetry.
Continue reading “Trapped”
We’re the kids our parents warned us about becoming
We exist in the spaces between words and each breath we take is another footnote to explain why we act this way.
Sometimes the small things are just small things.
Continue reading “One For the Mercy Kill”