Charles Bukowski in One Corner; in the Other, Bob Dylan
If anyone should take eighteen-shot Dylan Thomas’s name,
it’s me. I challenge you to a duel
with two bottles of Four Roses.
–Chuck, that may be you, but
me, I crossed the green mountain
I slept by the sea.
you’re walkin’ in dreams
where black is the color
and nothing the number.
Bob, I got to tell you
I’m sorry for my wife
I’m sorry for anyone’s wife.
If you want me, find me clinging to a freight car,
Find me underground.
But you’ll never find me
vagrant in the rain, nabbed by a rookie cop,
a skirt, no less,
in Long Branch, New Jersey.
— Angela Ball
James Cummins writes:
As with most of David’s prompts, this one resulted in some terrific entries. I went with Angela Ball’s poem for the first prize, but there was a good pool to pick from (I counted eight entries as possibles). For me, it came down to some great lines. Angela wrote (in Buk’s voice) “I’m sorry for my wife / I’m sorry for anyone’s wife” which seemed to me to combine the compassion B. tried to keep hidden with the world-weariness we love about the guy. And the ending, referring to Dylan’s run-in with the police in 2009, who thought he was a homeless vagrant, was perfect; the word “skirt” was inspired. George Schaefer‘s prose-poem “scene” takes second; it combines the grittiness of many of the entries with a lyric grace I love. “The bluebird in him allows him to order a round for the idealistic young troubadour” and “Poetry only happens when nothing else can” are two examples. And again, the ending is perfect. Finally, Adam Baron‘s poem gets honorable mention for the use of the word “dumb,” the moon sitting on Bukowski’s solipsistic rim, and the friendly atmosphere of two schmucks having a moment together. The difference between these three and at least four or five other entries is as thin as the bill Buk slides into his favorite pinball machine. Thanks to all.
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Author: The Best American Poetry
