Although I’m not a big fan of Charles Bukowski – one of my former secretaries and friends used to admire Bukowski – for one reason or the other I read a few of Bukowski’s poems last night.
The parlando of his poetry is appealing to me, parlando by nature is appealing.
The poem I liked best last night is called “the women” – a lot of his poems can be called “the women.” This is how it starts: “my uncle Ben was interested in the ladies and many a time he would drive up in his Model-A, get out and come in with his new lady.
they’d sit on the couch and chatter away, then my uncle Ben would follow my father into another room.”

My friend Mark recently said that poetry is an overrated genre. Maybe he is right.