I was reading a poem by Bukowski

       It is called “jam”

I read a few lines, pondered

        watched outside the window

then resumed reading, while I was still


suddenly, a tiny speck on the page


it was green, it was alive

as my vision came to normal

I could see the insect

– wasn’t sure which kind –

the little one walked on the page

stepping over an “s” first

then a “w” but turned back

then came down to the word


and headed to the edge of the page. 

I finished the poem, and thought to myself:


“This Bukowski is really good” 

 It was the first “Buck” poem

I ever read.