reading Bukowski
on the toilet
and awaiting
the obligatory California poem
& the tension mounts
& I find the words
slamming into reverse
and heading backwards
in my head
until I just feel like
saying, “Fuck it!”
I can’t take it no more
but I do continue
& bang down beers
in the solitude
of my hotel room
with verse treading back
& time ticking away
only beer remains
time = minutes
+ hours
fading into
utter nothingness
8-13-94
Sacramento, CA