walking by my side, her lovely locomotion,
keeps my eyes open wide.
well I don't know what to think of the Santa Barbara City Council sometimes...$30000 for a poll to see if voters want another tax....even to suggest such a thing....well it adds to the libertarian argument that gov't is bloated....
I ponder this as I fill out my taxes and it's clear I pay way too much to the Feds..the state will give me a tiny refund....
and the tax forms and instructions are crazy...my goal is to maximize my deductions to reduce my tax bill and if they wanna audit me they can kiss my ass!!
and the glass wings sculpture at the airport the council approved..they look like giant clam shells!!
ok so I'm a poet and don't I know it..no I'm no poet but I do love poetry...to love, to suffer, to think...is to seek poetry
the question is does the city need to spend money on a poet laureate? when I think of poets I think of Verlain and Rimbaud...or Poe or Edna St.Vincent Millay...or Robert Frost or De La Mare..
so we got a gal who is the new Poet Laureate for Santa Barbara...well if she goes up before the council to read some verse, I'd suggest something from the renowned sufferer Charles Bukowski..
A Radio with Guts
it was on the 2nd floor on Coronado Street
I used to get drunk
and throw the radio through the window
while it was playing, and, of course,
it would break the glass in the window
and the radio would sit there on the roof
and I'd tell my woman,
"Ah, what a marvelous radio!"
the next morning I'd take the window
off the hinges
and carry it down the street
to the glass man
who would put in another pane.
I kept throwing that radio through the window
each time I got drunk
and it would sit there on the roof
a magic radio
a radio with guts,
and each morning I'd take the window
back to the glass man.
I don't remember how it ended exactly
though I do remember
we finally moved out.
there was a woman downstairs who worked in
the garden in her bathing suit,
she really dug with that trowel
and she put her behind up in the air
and I used to sit in the window
and watch the sun shine all over that thing
while the music played.
yeah, that's good....poetry must have guts!