REALITY PROPS

gore on the green lawn

feathers on the garden walk

haikus in red dawn

~

his face is a mountain

the night is screaming

all conversations 

are clipped like wings

~

& the emptiness of right now

is punched out 

on the quiet carpet

of a weekday morning fume

HELPED TREMENDOUSLY

 

i
never

expected

black & white photographs
of british mobile homes

to be so

medically

calming

& they helped 

t r e m e n d o u s l y

when my brain 

was screaming

out of gear 

NEWS LIVER

the bad bad news

gets IN me

like i have an organ for it

like evolution grew receptors

for the 24/7 death deluge

& it taxes 

my practiced liver 

to overflow

& i am holed

skin tags atremble

& a bad light beams
out my colander trunk

like 

some 

dark screaming beacon of the wrong

TO A CRITICAL MASS

but too tho the silence

the dense & concrete silence

well it makes gains up around your chair

like its building to a critical mass

& it 

could be
what some
would use
the word
g r a c e 

about

just not me not yet

i call it a screaming pause

ADAPTABILITY

BUK RULES

in the submission rules
for a little mag
it said 

 ' no bukowski style

   im drinking
   im writing
   its great

   sort of stuff 
   thank you '

maybe i get what they mean
and i cant drink anymore anyway
but i hear a snobbish drift
and pleas for rhymes about daisies

those small eclusions
hold essentials markers
of 
truth
creation
escape

and 
the screaming
at the thin end of it all

that theyve never heard
and wouldnt even know
if it blew out their arseholes
during their broadsheet sunday brunch

by buk from poetryfoundation.org

POETS JOB