Bukowski’s Bluebird August 16, 2016
Posted by The Typist in New Orleans, poem, Poetry, The Narrative, The Typist, Toulouse Street.1 comment so far
Not only words in his mouth
but what look like feathers,
clamped tight in his teeth
like an anxious gambler’s cigarette.
Cat eyed and smiling at the bar,
he caught beauty perched on a stool
and swallowed it in one bite.
Now odd notes issue from his throat.
His words come out as songs.
Also published in The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature.
or at these independent New Orleans bookstores:
Odd Bits of Life in New Orleans 