For Charles Bukowski (and the man with beautiful eyes)

You knew—
no sort of blindness
sees only things
or their surfaces.

If the pond had no depth,
tame goldfish would
swim to its surface.
As orange as they were,
you dreamt fire
swimming inside them.

The house
couldn’t be a house—
you waited for its master.
And even if what emerged
wasn’t what you expected,
he needed to live there,
was always there,
bottled spirits in hand,
waiting to come out
and name you.

What bamboo could be
thick enough,
wild enough,
uncombed enough
for truth to hide?
Each act is its motive
in the end.

You thought about it.
You decided—
all the beauty inside
has to blaze.

Joe Felso is an English teacher in Chicago. He has written haiku everyday for 3 1/2 years. His art and
writing can be found at Joe Felso: Ruminations.

6 Responses to For Charles Bukowski (and the man with beautiful eyes)

  1. Nice one, Joe, very nice indeed.

    Scot, thought I would let you and your readers know that we finally have Hemingway’s Shotgun up and running again. My apologies for the delays are on the front page.

  2. I love this poem, especially the last stanza. It takes me by the shoulders and shakes me. And it takes my breath away. Thanks for sharing, Joe.

  3. kimtblogger says:

    wow… you dreamt fire! i agree about last stanza and beauty blazing. This poem blazes. Thanks

  4. nathan1313 says:

    This is great–great voice–lines that are real gems –“Each act is its motive in the end.”

  5. Scot says:

    one of my favorites of yours!

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