HERO

during my quarterly session
at the computer
updating Chiron’s mailing list,
adding, changing, deleting,
the spring, 1994 task
was harder than usual

CHARLES BUKOWSKI,
SAN PEDRO, CALIF.

“Warning! This form is about
to be deleted permanently.”

it finally registered that he was gone.
memories flashed,
i remembered meager encounters
with the lion:

writing to him for the first time,
timidly asking for poems,
never expecting them

less than two weeks later
receiving the package
adorned with his Beat characters,
his note, “Glad to be aboard!
Sure. Buk.”

the joy and adrenaline
from that initial correspondence
carried me through several more issues

year after year he sent poems
anytime i asked,
was a cornerstone to many small magazines,
even after he became a “star.”

he was no saint, but he was a hero.

how he cut through crap,
how he caused the mundane
to shine with meaning,
how he never forgot his roots,
how he lifted us all higher.

 

they say a woman loses one tooth after
every birth, or: thoughts after publishing
Chiron Review #32

my dental hygienist nags about brushing,
flossing, water picking every day.
oh yes, & the peroxide.
threatens if i don’t, i’ll be toothless
by 40.

gawd nose i intend to cooperate,
to keep everything on me that’s real
as long as possible.

but every time i think about
commencing the oral hygiene shuffle,
Chiron has some task
screaming to be done,
plus there’s my real job,
the cats & friends who demand attention,
& the poetry volcano.

so i work away & before i know
it’s 4 A.M. & i am tireder than death,
& i think,
“tomorrow i’ll save my teeth.”

i know.
before long,
i’ll be gumming poetry.

 

POETRY: LESSON #1, ILLUSTRATED

we were the Poetry Committee,
gathered around Terri’s candlelit tables,
good food, good friends,
faces glowing with candlelight,
anticipation,
papers rustling,
awaiting the poems

a solitary fly appeared
buzzing around our heads,
orbited the candle
flew straight through
the blue of the flame,
back-flipped (quivering) in the air,
skid-landed on the candle’s top,
submerged in hot wax.

any questions?

 

from michael's
new book

cosmic children