Joshua Bowden Poems

Bukowski's hole in the wall,
The literal one: I saw
There were probably many more
That I never saw
...

I relished Winter's cold, dry, crisping clime
The hard ground; the invigorating frost
Encouraged my hands in their work. I find
More joy coming in from frigid chaos
...

A mother's love the walls that guard
Her stern rebukes the cannon ports
Her watchful eye a barbican
A mother is a fort
...

This is the Common Age
Writ on vellum of human flesh
Of the millions dead,
dried and cured by the quicklime
...