Ian Copestick

just like Buk

reading Bukowski
and I don’t want
to knock him
too much
but,
upon reading a couple of
biographies
about him
it seems that
all of the times
he wrote about
working in
slaughterhouses,
he actually only
did half a shift
in one.

literally
hundreds of poems mention
sleeping on
park benches,
this happened
less than a handful of times,
apparently,

I’ve slept rough
once or twice,
having walked out
on my missus and
having nowhere
else to go.
expect to see it
in my poems
for the next forty years or so.

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