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death day lit up
like a christmas tree
i am
listening to Bukowski talking reading
poetry from a CD like he was in
my room.
looking at old poetry
i have on my computer and i
look at it and think does it
suck is it worthy of anything or
is it bull would Bukowski have
approved would he have approved ?
but
then i hear him saying that he
did not want to read that
or this poem which means sometimes he
did not even like his old poems and
thought he had written a bit of
a turkey.
and Bukowski just said he
did not know what he was and
sure as hell know that feeling and
wonder what i am if anything.
and
wonder if i have ever written
anything to make people sit up and
take notice and feel more alive
then dead like most are more dead then
alive and kicking
kicking up
a fuss
kicking out a reminder of
love
a reminder of our
own small death day
lit up like
a christmas tree on fire on a
sandy dune
where you are the
only soul body their
alone and
useless finally.
useless finally.
like all
this had never happened never really
happened
like a Christmas tree
lit up and on fire.
© 2006 Richard Atkinson
ii

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