June 9, 2014 § Leave a comment


When I see Hank in capital letters I think Bukowski.

Did he have a drink here? What year? After work from the Post Office?

Which poems popped into his head while sitting where I’m sitting right now, or was it a scene from what became a longer piece? Doesn’t matter. I ask for another beer and raise my glass.

Thanks, Buk. Thank you for your words, your thoughts, your brutally honest rows.

Thank you for Skid Row, for those who ask 4 change, peeing in the sink as new LA Live riche laugh loudly, now, glasses in hand, down the street a little, at a South Park bar and talk about their favorite poet–you. Gentrification has nothing on the working class, Charles.

But you knew that already, didn’t you?


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