Bukowski vs. Everybody Else

I'm sitting here quiet
Three books in
And its all very real
Very interesting
Entertainment all the same.
After three books-
Three consuming efforts
Towards the man
The myth
The lengend
The drunk
And the womanizer
Nothing stays.
Bukowski
Isn't like everybody else,
I'm certain.
And now everybody else
Wants to be like Bukowski.

Blood rushes to the brain.
My head is dizzy
From the prize fight
Between Bukowski and the classics.
The old farts are taking a beating;
A sign of the times.
Still
This isn't a fight,
It's a wallop.
Everytime
I try and remember
A lasting line
From this new legend
Emptiness
And hard words are all I feel.
But...
Cummings
Millay
Whitman
Blake
Frost
Sexton
Keats
Dylan
All limping
Like aged prize fighters
Wind back and strike
And knock him on his ass
With every last line
I ever read.

Bukowski can have this decade
Because nothing gold can stay.

C.A. Dominick