Friday, January 2, 2009

cutting cloud from sky

if i was born a bastard
son of bukowski
i would
write poems
in that criminal
with vulgar pride.

but i was not
so i will
write poems
in my anemic lisp
with manic fatalism
and a custer moustache.

you see
my country hates poets
by principle
and my countrymen
would rather drink
hard liquor and coca cola
than read hegel or wittgenstein or kant
because hegel and wittgenstein and kant
are hard to understand
and even when understood
can’t make you a better kisser.

i am not bitter.
i wouldn’t have it any other way.

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