… this event took place, pre-adoration by the global masses….steve richmond, ben pleasants, neeli and the rest of the L.A. Meat Poet men joined the poetry groupies as the singular true fans of a yet-to-be-discovered bukowski in those days..
you were nervous then
watching shy jailbait
catholic schoolgirls
walk round and round
earth’s plywood tabletops…
watching us
you grinned like a fool
as we feigned
initial interest
in the soft-shelled chapbooks
piled around…
from the corner stack
we tucked our copies
of the LA free press
under our arms
for an added effect
of cool…
we knew something
was off..
instead of
‘break on through
to the other side’
blaring
and richmond grinning
or glaring
from behind the
counter,
a piano concerto
fell softly from
the mounted teac speakers…
this old guy
instead
was minding the store…
your yellowed, white short-sleeved
rayon
had a stain or two
dead-center
your greasy hair
was slicked back
with pommade or vaseline
and reeking of brews
you chain smoked those unfiltereds
one right after another
lookin’ uncomfortable
and lecherous
like somebody’s
perverted gramps
left minding the store…
later you remembered
and wrote a poem
View original post 28 more words
having vistors from france…want to not rush … with reading the the Lastest Shadowdance…thanks for sending…xd