I wish I knew Bukowski
If he were still alive
He would tell me
my poetry
is not fit for shit
but not before
I tell him his is
not putrid, but still filthy shit
I would never tell him
I really thought
his writing IS the shit
and he would probably
write a poem about my
fat hips and how I
wouldn't show him my
legs - because they were hairy
and how he wished my husband
would beat me and go
to the race track once in awhile
and I would tell him again
that his poetry is filthy shit
and he would say mine was shit
and we would both be right

07/10/2010

Posted on 07/10/2010
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