you've created very little (Friday's Sunday's Poem)

Bluebird

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I'm not going
to let anybody see
you.

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As The Poems Go
Charles Bukowski

as the poems go into the thousands you
realize that you've created very
little.

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Today's poems are by Charles Bukowski, who maybe shouldn't be read on a Friday morning, because he's not very cheery, but then again, if we read stuff that's kind of down and depressing it may make us appreciate our lives a little more, right?

Also, The Boy was studying poetry this week, reading poems by some little-known and not-very-good poet, and I told The Boy that he might like Bukowski's poetry. I told him that because I thought The Boy would appreciate Bukowski's attitude, and the way he takes sad, horrible lives and holds them up as poetry, and somehow the sad horribleness becomes entrancing. In a sad horrible way, but entrancing nonetheless.

It's not beautiful, but it is poetry. I've tried to pick out two of the less-depressing ones.