no Bukowski, par Herman Shorts

no Bukowski

now, I’m no Bukowski

but my friends who don’t like poetry

except his stuff, tell me

they like mine, and I can drink

like a drinking machine

especially if you’re buying

so maybe I am.

(2013)

you are guilty of failing to love and understand me, like a dog is guilty of failing to speak or use

yes, i’m saying sunshine & rainbows will flow from your heart & other lovely places like living liquid

like bell bottoms or disco but we need it to think i’m dead

we are nearly always a world which almost

nobody goes mad on purpose, also never is it not shared,

the conquering child turns 50, gets the gag out its mouth, says here i am. let’s play now

STEP BACK! There’s an infection you’ll get if you come any closer. It will open your eyes through the crust

I love how you talk Down to everyone In your poems Which, unlike fiction Are not covered

every story, especially those promising finally to grant the square hat with tassels, is a load of shit. the god which

I will meet you in the open air, & pet your pony’s nose. You will be

just start over not so much like anything was particularly

just remember we are so much more than words. shadows are beautiful too but let’s not

simply knowing you’re in a maze doesn’t get you out, but the fact is the foundation

the center holds itself still that rockets believably may be seen exploding in all directions from somewhere vaguely

god is unwelcome in suburbia, the cells are too comfortable there, & love rests best under stars.