Litkicks Message Board Archive


Posted to Poetry

have felt the pain with
the books, and the small
jubilations as well, still
read and reread him, still
remember the day he died,
still remember all the
drinks and times with him
in his books, still
remember reading him aloud
to open minded girls in
younger nights, am older
now but Buk never was,
always like a child in his
stories with a golden
heart, still and forever
drink with Bukowski