Bukowski Drunk, Farts That Are Wet Poem by James McLain

The fly paper hung like fresh sprigs of mint
catching there intended.
Every square inch covered in bodies of which
some still moved.

Opened partially eaten Can's of Bean's, were
everywhere.
Late in his life the maid said.

Screen less
the open window let the lizard's and spiders
in.

Catching a lizard
a bird perched on a beer mug took it's
creamy fluid dump in his beer.

Still a sleep.

Snoring and farting the atmosphere smelled
of methane,
beer and Chile Bean's.

Half asleep
half awake lunging for last nights beer
the bird flew off
eating a fork full of Bean's
finishing the beer.