Her Eyes

Fiery red hair And hips to make a nurse swoon But her eyes My God, her eyes were a thousand falling stars and the ever pulsing tide of the mighty ocean. Deep and tranquil and yet raging with the murderous chaos of freedom. Somewhere in the middle of God and Satan’s feud over humanity, they…

Bukowski

I read that Charles Bukowksi used to get drunk at his poetry readings. The crowd loved him for it. There was something  just so incredibly human about a man, drunk and alone in front of an audience, sharing the most vulnerable and darkest places of his heart.