a poem is a city filled with streets and sewers
filled with saints, heroes, beggars, madmen,
filled with banality and booze,
filled with rain and thunder and periods of
drought, a poem is a city at war,
a poem is a city asking a clock why,
a poem is a city burning,
a poem is a city under guns
its barbershops filled with cynical drunks,
a poem is a city where God rides naked
through the streets like Lady Godiva,
where dogs bark at night, and chase away
the flag; a poem is a city of poets,
most of them quite similar
and envious and bitter…
a small music from broken windows...
a poem is a city, a poem is a nation,
a poem is the world...
"A Poem Is A City," Charles Bukowski
[Damen Avenue and Chicago Avenue.]
Monday, June 20, 2011
About Me
- Ray Pride
- Chicago, Illinois, United States
Blog Archive
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2011
(107)
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June
(20)
- comic complication
- an only child above the measured thunder of the cars
- anybody live here?
- in a good mood
- a handful of dust
- the shunting of trains far away in the freight yards
- the pub crawl that stops, looks and listens
- ingen blandade allt annat än whisky och öl på tug ...
- we don't get tornados in these parts
- puerco, pollo, queso
- two parallel red lines
- a city filled with streets and sewers
- willingness to be happy
- often silly
- urban falconry
- the new chicago style
- hence the horizon's blade
- raptured
- his aim is true-ish
- some girls never learn
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June
(20)