Barefoot & Blacked Out
my love graceful
falling thru
the sunset of
my living room
her heartbeat
her bodyswing
i hold her say
remember me
her sweat is blurred
against my skin
she smiles a walk
of memories
i’m laughing cos
she’s laughing as
the walls fade to
an ambersand
Bukowski in the rain
i read a collection
of Bukowski poems
outside in
the rain
last night.
it started off
spitting but
soon became
a downpour.
in his poem about
an orchestra:
playing
in a deluge:
everyone abandons
the concert
to escape
the storm.
except for one man,
who stays because
he wants to hear
the music.
as i read
the pages became wet and torn.
the ink ran off the page,
over the grass
and down the gutter
until there were no pages,
no words,
just the outside cover,
Bukowski smiling,
and me, drenched
to the bone.
having slept off a fever,
i woke up to a sunny day
and it seemed the words of Bukowski
had gotten into the
water system:
every man was fighting,
cursing,
drinking,
every woman
showing a little more
leg than usual,
not a soul
in the neighbourhood
got out of bed
before noon,
and the
bluebird
in my
heart wasn’t
weeping.
________________
Simon Alderwick's debut pamphlet, ways to say we're not alone, is out with Broken Sleep Books in February 2024.
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