Have I been reading too much Bukowski? Which is to say, are these too bleak? Should I keep them as a pair? In the second poem, should/could the word “gladiators” be changed for “combatants.” Any and all comments are welcome.
Washington Heights, and Washington Heights Internal
your hand shook and
the cup of change
followed suit. The sound
of broken glass shattering
nothing but stone on steel,
“spare some change?”
your voice a flint underwater.
I hope madness takes me
before anything is to go.
The homeless woman,
laughing at the trains passing by,
so happy to have her feet up
on the seat.
I could do
Taking Inventory: Union Sq. Park
hair fading from the tip like
snow peaked mountains of black, black
earth. the voyage of a green tabletop
leading to the green shirt of a much
younger man. Between the two:
a parcheesi board, speckled with
brown and white gladiators and the
blurred apparition of two sets of hands.
the dice are rolled. moves are made.
from me: silence.