Treasure Island

gordon nosworthy


Bukowskiing Bukowski


Bukowski’s face looks
Submerged in water
For decades

A story
All by itself
Wordlessly
Defining the baggage
Of its history

Every line a footprint
You can almost see feet moving through the space
Of wet concrete
Hardening what has been written by experience
Stubbornly
Refusing redesign

Through wildness
Erupts a behaviour
Designed to avoid spirit pain
Through excess:
Spikes through both cheeks
Belly button rings through the tongues
Carelessness for caring
Eating fire

It isn’t what Bukowski saw
It’s that Bukowski saw:
His face very quiet
Even as it shouts
Smiles
Even as it cries
Rests even as it agitates
Lives
Even though it has died
Many times before

Submitted: Thursday, March 13, 2014
Edited: Friday, March 14, 2014

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Topic(s): love

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