Bukowski
Hello dead Bukowski, you SOB.
In most of your life a failure.
In one thing a success.
The touch of a true poet?
Knowing you are a failed SOB
but having in you something that is exceptional,
that strikes our innocence.
All that inside stuff
creating pressure,
creating urges,
out it must come.
You lucky SOB
what came out connected
to the other SOBs and moved us.
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