as the poems go into the thousands you
realize that you’ve created very
little.
it comes down to the rain, the sunlight,
the traffic, the nights and the days of the
years, the faces.
leaving this will be easier than living
it, typing one more line now as
a man plays a piano through the radio,
the best writers have said very
little
and the worst,
far too much.
from ONTHEBUS – 1992
The infinitely wise, kranky and hilarious musings of Mr. Bukowski still crack me up. Great choice for poem of the day!
the poem is kind of confusing for me but it sounds good umm. i think that if u explainde it more or had a page for it then i would get it
This poem of yours was and is very touching to my heart keep up the work