Charles Bukowski in One Corner; in the Other, Bob Dylan
If anyone should take eighteen-shot Dylan Thomas’s name,
it’s me. I challenge you to a duel
with two bottles of Four Roses.
--Chuck, that may be you, but
me, I crossed the green mountain
I slept by the sea.
you’re walkin’ in dreams
where black is the color
and nothing the number.
Bob, I got to tell you
I’m sorry for my wife
I’m sorry for anyone’s wife.
If you want me, find me clinging to a freight car,
Find me underground.
But you’ll never find me
vagrant in the rain, nabbed by a rookie cop,
a skirt, no less,
in Long Branch, New Jersey.
-- Angela Ball
James Cummins writes:
As with most of David's prompts, this one resulted in some terrific entries. I went with Angela Ball's poem for the first prize, but there was a good pool to pick from (I counted eight entries as possibles). It came down to some great lines. Angela wrote (in Buk's voice) "I'm sorry for my wife / I'm sorry for anyone's wife" which seemed to me to combine the compassion B. tried to keep hidden with the world-weariness we love about the guy. And the ending, referring to Dylan's run-in with the police in 2009, who thought he was a homeless vagrant, was perfect; the word "skirt" was inspired. George Schaefer's prose-poem "scene" takes second; it combines the grittiness of many of the entries with a lyric grace I love. "The bluebird in him allows him to order a round for the idealistic young troubadour" and "Poetry only happens when nothing else can" are two examples. And again, the ending is perfect. Finally, Adam Baron's poem gets honorable mention for the use of the word "dumb," the moon sitting on Bukowski's solipsistic rim, and the friendly atmosphere of two schmucks having a moment together. The difference between these three and at least four or five other entries is as thin as the bill Buk slides into his favorite pinball machine. Thanks to all.
George Schafer's prose poem (second place):
When Charles Bukowski Met Bob Dylan
A jaded old bard pounds a shot of J.D. and mocks an idealistic young troubadour. “So just how many beers must one man drink before he’s allowed to pass out?” The bartender chuckles at the joke. The young troubadour debates if Jesus will ever forgive these sins. Loose leaf papers holding his poems gets blown away in the wind. With a soul deader than a dead Christmas tree, the jaded old bard orders another beer and another shot. The bluebird in him allows him to order a round for the idealistic young troubadour. After all, poetry only happens when nothing else can. The sooner this kid learns the ways of the world the better. The young troubadour claims everyone gets stoned so he can abide. He pulls up a stool and throws down the shot. Old poet says “Don’t try.”
Adam Baron's poem (third place)
When Charles Bukowski Met Bob Dylan
Night fell, broke.
One day they'll reward you old man.
Chuck laughed. Me? Not me, but I'll tell you
this: if I knew guitar I'd strum the
moon out of the dumb sky. I'd make it sit on
the edge of my glass - and stare
at me for a change.
But you don't, Bob said
and Chuck laughed. Then I'll leave it
where it is, which he did, and
though Bob tries now and then, he
can't shift it.
Each track in Drive Mad is unique, so selecting the right vehicle for the job is crucial. For instance, sports cars are great for speed but may struggle on off-road tracks.
Posted by: Drive Mad | August 26, 2024 at 12:03 AM