Bedside Bukowski

April is a pretty awesome month filled with Spring Break and Easter candy and cherry blossoms and poetry. In honor of National Poetry Month I thought I’d share a poem I wrote that was published last spring in Mount St. Mary’s literary magazine, Lighted Corners.

Fulton

White lies and blind faith got us there.

The vacant bus made obligatory stops,

Van Ness, Polk, Hyde, Powell, Kearney,

postponing our pilgrimage,

and blinding us with white light,

filtering through smudged windows.

Metropolis disappeared.

No houses, bars, stores, not even a 7-11 in sight,

just our stop.

Fulton.

The bus driver was slow to let us off,

giving us times to change our minds.

We did not.

Running across the Great Highway

that fluidly traces the coast,

greeted by the roar of frothy white caps

resisting course black sand,

we turned and headed back to our stop,

where she took my picture

and captured my grin.

Nothing but teeth,

as we sat and waited for the white bus.

I’ve been reading more poetry, with the hope that it will inspire me to write some more poems. Here’s hoping that once this semester is over, there will be time for some serious writing. In the meantime, I’ll sneak in a Bukowski poem between research papers and sleep, from the stack of books I keep on my nightstand. His poetry is medicinal. You think you’ve got it tough? He had it worse and wrote about it so beautifully : )

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