225 days under grass
and you know more than I.
they have long taken your blood,
you are a dry stick in a basket.
is this how it works?
in this room
the hours of love 
still make shadows.

when you left
you took almost
everything.
I kneel in the nights 
before tigers
that will not let me be.

what you were 
will not happen again.
the tigers have found me
and I do not care.

Poet: Charles Bukowski
Poem: For Jane
Poem of the Day: Dec 19 2008

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