if i were to have a love affair
with bukowski
i would have to call myself
“woman”
& he would devote himself
to my empty beer bottles & dirty underwear.
somewhere between my palms
& the dawn
a filthy child would be born
whose little limbs
would cast shadows of guilt and apathy
across our stale sheets.
all night long
sex & death
would ring out from our bed
& in the morning
my skin soaked with words
he would whisper flaty to the back of my head
get the hell out of my house.
jes!
i had no idea you wrote poetry. how strange that these things come about through impersonal means. and its good poetry too.
you also put the housewarming i’ve been storing all my warmth for on the weekend when i am out of town. eh. i’m going to have to start dropping in uninvited.
tim!
you are always invited.
and at least you came to my blogwarming party…
I love this one. You’re poems are brilliant.
this one is my favourite, it reminds me of something ondajte might have written if he was alady. wait , thats not really a compliment. fuck it, i mean to say that its as well written as an ondatjie poem , it resonates and rolls. i love it.