I find a half pack of stale smokes behind some novels of Bukowski’s drunken knowledge look into the night with a smile walk through the rains of January too the bar without stepping on any lines I do that at times when there’s a poem in me that wants to escape the madness within I head for that smoke room sit in the corner [...]
Pain and Wastings
They shuffle down Eastside Hastings as thou with feet’s of clay A city tour bus drives North on Main street with wide-eyed tour’s They take pictures to remind them what Hell on earth maybe Women look like witches in Polanski’s movie version of Macbeth Men look like starvied vampires Thay hide in the shodows of the Carnegie Libray Some light [...]
