shot glass
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Dennis W. McCurdy



I could read Bukowski all night long
Foul mouthed, beer & cigarette breath
Thick as dragon's fire
I walk with him down the garbage strewn alleys
Look out through his never-cleaned windows
Rise up from his stained sheets
To view the damaged world he loves

Nasty man, mean spirit, user of women
Harsh, hard, scar-pocked face
The battlefield of his campaign
That brought him to this precise moment in time
Where our words merge
And I see his world
Through those age-fogged, bitter, eyes
Filled with his demons