Tuesday, October 7, 2008

Old Man Hank

Old man
tells me most poetry
is terrible.

People who got
nothing to say are
writing books and books
of terrible poetry.

They work hard
at something they won't ever
be any good at.

He's got a sparse beard
covers deep acne scars,
he's absolutely hideous.

I tell I'm going to write anyways,
I tell him he's hideous.

The capillaries in his nose
have all burst.
He takes another swig of his Heineken.
Unfazed,

Poetry should come out like a hot beer shit
when you finish you should look down
and see it all out there.

I shake my head
push harder,
little comes out.

I'll be back in an hour
to finish up.

1 comment:

graham said...

this about bukowski, yeah?