"The Secret Of My Misery"
- for GW and Bukowski.
Dear Mr. Chinaski,
I'm nearing the end of my first book
not expecting it to take this long
the whole creative process drawn out
with pregnant pauses and mental blocks
on the bed nearby lies a fairly worn copy
of one of your books of poetry
I still don't understand how you were
able to write a new one every year
maybe it was the booze
or the cats
or maybe Vivaldi with his fruity strings
was behind it all
2 a.m. and I'm in bed
while you plug away
on your computer
and my screen has a mind of her own
freezing on me
not budging
blinking faster than my eyes can react to it
six feet under
in some quiet space
I hear you laugh
as the underbelly of my undoing
seethes just beneath the breaking point
the cold air is still
the turbulent wind
that threatens my insides
is all I have left (*)
the pallor of my skin forever changed
I would have followed you down
into that beautifully awful place (*)
Fearfully taken,
Robert "Rambo" Chimney
Copyright: 2004 & 2009, by Raymund Diaz Delizo
(Note: The original version of this poem was written January 2004 for my old blog; * - denotes that these parts were written April 18, 2009.)
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