I guess that was buk's last job
honkin' them over
the harbor freeway
crossin' them over
by san remo
his warty eyes blinkin'
in the blindin' steel and gas
crawlin' all day
on the freeway
jammin' up the place
say, you might read a passage to me
from buk's new book
the last night of the earth...
you'd like the feel...
the black and red cover...
the acid-free paper...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hank had great truth to him, read any of his poems. a deeply sensitive, yet troubled soul. towards the end did find peace w himself (see 'born into this') . nice tribute, thanks.