There are sketches on the walls of men and women and ducks,
and outside a large green bus swerves through traffic like
insanity sprung from a waving line; Turgenev, Turgenev,
says the radio, and Jane Austin, Jane Austin, too.
...
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'She has a face unlike that of any woman I have ever known.' 'What is it? A love affair? ' 'Silly. I can't love a woman. Besides, she's pregnant.'...touching expression.Beautiful poem.
Sketches on the walls! ! The Painter. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
In large part this feels like a found poem, lines taken or literally cut from books or newspapers and assembled together. The closing line however might suggest the circus of disparate thoughts that race through our minds when we lie in bed sleepless. For me it’s so idiosyncratic that feelingwise I stay on its surface. -GK
why are half of Buk's peoms on here incomplete? should be a crime
Such vivid imagery with a mastery of the craft of writing! Truly worthy of POD! Like Kerouac, Buk lives on!