A Nonconformist Haiku Feeling The Heat Of A Live Wire (Dec 2019) Poem by Andrew Lee

Charles Bukowski is boasting about kissing

tender curls of flesh, and for once, I look away,

cutting up the belly of a bullfrog,

listening hard to the ping-ponk, ping-ponk if its heart.

And then everything stops.

Sooner or later, everything stops.

Charles and I and you will have a nice long chat

under cherry trees with leaves that are tender

like the lips of pleasant girls.

Don't worry, all our bodies are transparent

and no way we can bully each other.

The Fires of Purgatory have cleansed our bones and blood.