Hard to organize
These draining thoughts
So many times I sit
And nothing develops
I'm lucky if I write
One a month
The words are too few
The ideas too many
The struggle too difficult
Some of my favorites
Wrote with candor simplicity
Wish we could meet
To guide me in your poetic technique
Meeting you in my dreams
Is the only option to date
So have a drink with me tonight
In the place of your choosing
Maybe we can discuss
That poem
About your mom and the fish
It's the first I ever read
With your name attached to it
I cried
And couldn't turn back
I wanted to get inside
To touch what I read
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
no doubt, to bukowski. i doubt you'd like the guy in person. nonetheless, be patient and the words will catch up to your ideas. good one.