Least Read Poems on Charles Bukowski

I love taking the risk
walking when it is brisk
letting the wind
have her say

Setting out before dawn
fresh dew on the lawn
glistening in the yellow glow
of the sentinel streetlight

For it is now April
that month that is cruel
or so is the rule
that all we poets do learn

Like how water can burn
Books are Frigates
coffee spoons measure life
how to hold both ends of a knife

And so I finally set out
leaving behind all doubt
wadded up on the floor

to...

Hungover ghosts share toasts  
into the thinning night      
like some sacrificial rite      
as poetry litters the floor      
      
Here cheap Bourbon is king      
fine Chablis his queen      
in this most tragic scene      
lost verse in search of its meter      
       
Recalling times much sweeter      
than any Elizabethan sorrow      
tucked away till tomorrow      
tangled up in its pentameter      
       
Searching for some parameter      
to measure its rhyme      
then dilate...