sifting through the madness for the word, the line, the way
from “neither Shakespeare nor Mickey Spillane”
young young young, only wanting the Word, going mad in the streets and in the bars,
brutal fights, broken glass, crazy women screaming in
your cheap room,
you a familiar guest at the drunk tank, North
Avenue 21, Lincoln Heights
sifting through the madness for the Word, the line the way,
hoping for a check from somewhere,
dreaming of a letter from a great editor:
“Chinaski, you don’t know how long we’ve beenwaiting for you!”
no chance at all.
