Something is wrong with me..
Something is wrong with me. A Poem by Coyote Poetry Bukowski had stole my soul. Something is wrong with me… Something is wrong with me.… Continue reading
Something is wrong with me. A Poem by Coyote Poetry Bukowski had stole my soul. Something is wrong with me… Something is wrong with me.… Continue reading
Maybe Bukowski? A Poem by Coyote Poetry Years ago. I met Bukowski in California. I didn’t know who he was, at the time. He read my work and he told me. Good stuff and… Continue reading
The loveliest girl in Monterey… The loveliest gal in Monterey, she hated love and disliked men who begged for attention. I was the midnight poet and I would go to her shop in… Continue reading
A Poem by Coyote Poetry Bukowski had stolen my soul. Something is wrong with me… Something is wrong with me. I am like a Bukowski … Continue reading
Something is wrong with me. A Poem by Coyote Poetry Bukowski had stole my soul. Something is wrong with me…. Something is wrong with me.… Continue reading
Maybe Bukowski? A Poem by Coyote PoetryYears ago. I met Bukowski in California. I didn’t know who he was, at the time. He read my work and he told me. Good stuff and we… Continue reading
Maybe Bukowski? A Poem by Coyote PoetryYears ago. I met Bukowski in California. I didn’t know who he was, at the time. He read my work and he told me. Good stuff and we… Continue reading
Maybe Bukowski The silence poet read his words on the first Tuesday night of each month. Otherwise his voice is quiet, he prefer the Salinger way over Hemingway loudness. He… Continue reading