After Bukowski

After Bukowski by Craig Malesra

After Bukowski

This radiator comes to life

With a death-rattle

This pen glows in the night

Like a promise

This pad is sickly, takes

My abuse and ponders.

I am old.

I shuffle my way, places,

My skull is a sheet, my eyes

a backward-glowing


I suck in breath and

spit out

savage spite.

This life is a many-mile sprint

into a wall.

Many times now

have I won.

<img class="wp-block-coblocks-author__avatar-img" src="; alt="<strong>Craig Malesra
Craig Malesra

Craig Malesra is an author and editor. He resides in Rhode Island and can be reached at

This site contains affiliate links to products. We may receive a commission for purchases made through these links. For more information, see my disclosures here. 

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