Trash Talkin'
There’s a realness to Charles
a rawness
a grind
that makes you want to
slap your leg
like an old jazz man.
Bukowski wouldn’t care
what the hell you thought of him.
There are those who say the common
isn’t poetry that the miniscule
is not as worthy of terse verse
concise, incised, precise jargon.
But, Charles had it anyway –
He had a taste for poverty
and love of free things
like the smash of glass and a fine ass
No beggar man was he
this spewer of words
this stewed harbinger of
sidewalk trash.
no matter his class
he made words
sing
Genius
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2014
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