insomnia, cont.

anxiety isolates

the biggest smile

from the bluest eyes

 

reaching and reaching

falling away from breath

the moment before touch

 

whispering in my own ear

a troubling warning

of a never existing harm

 

the scolding mind

the pushing heart

expelling energy

into all the wrong caves

when it should be soaring

over a sounding sea

bk 2017

 

 

the stripper with my name

50 years ago I watched the girls
shake it and stip
at The Burbank and The Follies
and it was very sad
and very dramatic
as the light turned from green to
purple to pink
and the music was loud and vibrant,
now I sit here tonight
smoking and
listening to classical
music
but I still remember some of
their names: Darlene, Candy, Jeanette
and Rosalie.
Rosalie was the
best, she knew how,
and we twisted in our seats and
made sounds
as Rosalie brought magic
to the lonely
so long ago.

now Rosalie
either so very old or
so quiet under the
earth,
this is the pimple-faced
kid
who lied about his
age
just to watch
you.

you were good, Rosalie
in 1935,
good enought to remember
now
when the light is
yellow
and the nights are
slow.

-Bukowski

i believe in reincarnation

“The desert takes our men from us, and they don’t always return,” she said. “We know that, and we are used to it. Those who don’t return become a part of the clouds, a part of the animals that hide in the ravines and of the water that comes from the earth. They become a part of everything . . . they become the Soul of the World.”

-The Alchemist