When I ran into Charles Bukowski in
A men's room at Santa Anita in 1980
He joked that you should never bet on
A horse that the guy at the next urinal
Touts you on. We laughed about it
And then I mentioned how when
I was going around Mexico in 1965
I didn't have a bowel movement
For two weeks on account of
How scary the bathrooms were.
'No shit!' he said. We laughed
About it and he asked if when
At long last I did defecate was it
Anything special and I said 'Nah.'
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I met Buk in the men's room in California and the guy was shit-faced just like the poems.
Posted by: Tony Paris | July 30, 2021 at 12:09 PM
This is one shitty work of prose, if i may add my 2 cents.
Posted by: Joel | July 31, 2021 at 12:08 PM
Read more poems, Joel. Poetry's like food or shoes or weather: there are lots of different kinds. It doesn't all have to be Joyce Kilmer.
Posted by: David Kirby | July 31, 2021 at 01:16 PM
Dear David Kirby...In my humble opinion, the above isn't poetry. I'm surprised it even made it this far being published here. I prefer my food spicy, shoes weathered and weather, tropical. Most of all, i enjoy poems by David Lehman.
Posted by: Joel | July 31, 2021 at 06:26 PM
Nah.
Posted by: Bruno Anthony | July 31, 2021 at 06:33 PM
"Write more poems. It's embarrassing not to, if you think about it." --James Tate
Posted by: Wayne Zade | August 01, 2021 at 06:53 AM
One of the best things about this poem is the use of the word "defecate."
Posted by: Karen Beckworth | August 01, 2021 at 04:28 PM
Actually, the best reaction to this non-poem is defecating on it.
Posted by: Joel | August 01, 2021 at 06:31 PM
Daryl Hine wrote a long poem titled "Vowel Movements."
Posted by: David Lehman | August 02, 2021 at 03:23 PM
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/142861/winter
Posted by: Joel | August 04, 2021 at 11:28 AM
Chin up! Reach for higher dreams.
Posted by: Jerry Pudnik | August 04, 2021 at 07:27 PM