Bukowski and Dickenson
Hank was a blitz-drinking honest brute.
He wrote about the grime and grit of the streets.
Drunks, alley roaches, hookers on the beat.
Emily chose to live life in a little room.
A daydreaming spinster writing dainty verse.
Across those pages were the seeds of her hurt. *
Hank, the self-professed loner, sought out company.
Emily was really the burlap and he the delicate lace.
Poetry is a mountain made of many masks.
With the truth lying just underneath.
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