Clive Gresswell- Two Poems

poem to a bastard hero

Bastard bukowski
in vest and underpants
i guess
leans back on his chair
by his Olivetti
and musing on a life
of booze and whoring
begins to write his
confessionals
with no punches pulled
i see him typing
like me
at furious pace
as he boxes the machine
blood and sweat of words
spewing forth onto
the paper
maybe he'll save her
or maybe he'll rape her
who knows which way it will go
as he swigs on his beer
contemplating a world of fools
and mixed up would-be poets
who ask for autographs
and he gives them epithets
torn from the gut.




Letter to Richard Brautigan

hold fast
to the flower
of your imagination
trickling dripping
into snow patterns
in the dandruff
flake of your soul
handing out your poems
to the citizens of sharks
who blew chewing gum
bubbles back at you
with your freedom gun
smoking
you took your life
the final rebellion
among a street of crazy dream graves.