Bukowski rolls his eyes

[revolutionrabbit]

Bukowski rolled his eyes
right before he got up to read
or that is what I thought
looking at him in the back room
of the auditorium
I was just a ticket taker
Hank was with two lady friends
and there was booze placed
on the tables for the poets
and his two brassy babes
were laughing at some joke
I thought they were maybe
laughing at me, fool that I was
I was not one of the lucky
local poets that got to read
with the other more famous ones
like Ginsberg and Burroughs
I had hoped to meet Burroughs
in the back room, but a funny
incident prevented that
I got into a tussle with the other
ticket taker, we were scuffling
when he got up to read
a local poet friend of mine
got to read, I handed him
a bottle of gin just before
he got up to read, he thanked me
he was 82 at the time
an old socialist who liked Hemingway
and told great fart jokes
I remember watching him hammer nails
and laughing with that whiskey chuckle
and I could see..."for whom the bell tolls"
in his old socialist poet eyes
Porter knew the score
he said " how can you ever be bored?"
all you have to do is look out a window
that was his advice to a young poet
Bukowski got up to read
and the big room fell silent
I don't remember any brassy babe jokes
or old socialist fart jokes
or Porter talking about Pablo Neruda
But I can still see Bukowski standing
there at the great podium
and the dead silence
just before his first words
blew everybody away
that night is carved on my third eye
like that look on Buk's face
when he rolled his eyes
and got up to read
the brassy babe
laughter following
him into the huge
auditorium
and the dead serious
look gave way
to his boundless voice
rumbling off the far walls
like a hallucinating snake
or Autumn leaves chasing
themselves around the
courtyard of a Hollywood
bungalow like drunken whores
on fire or horses
racing in the wind
at the track
last bet on Shadow Dancer

[Kailashana]

Sigh. I love Buk and I adore this poem. You're the man!

p.s. please reread lines before and after "we were scuffling" for clarity; I think there's too many we got up to reads.

~A

[revolutionrabbit]

I wrote about that night so many times
in so many poems, what happened is
I was a ticket taker, the readings lasted
two nights, the first night I took tickets
and got to hang out in the back room with
the poets that were reading that first night
the guy that ran the whole thing was a local
poet, the second night, there was a different
ticket taker, and I wanted to get into the back
room, and this jerk would not let me in, I don't
know where the guy who set the whole thing up
was at the time, I wanted to get into the back
room so I could have a chance to see Burroughs
up close, and maybe meet him, but the ticket
taker on the second night would not let me in
so I punched him, and he grabbed me, and we
were yelling, just when Burroughs was reading
then the poet guy that put on the reading came
along with a few of his friends and broke us up
and I never did get in the back room that night,
I had to listen to the rest of Burroughs reading
in the seats like everybody else, bummer, I
really wanted to meet Burroughs.It's funny but
there were so many famous poets at that reading,
and local poets added, I can't remember if the reading
lasted three nights, it would have been on a weekend
so maybe it was friday, saturday, and sunday night?
Anyway I never saw another reading quite like that one
with so many famous poets and writers, even Ken Kesey
was there.