Mad, Mad Artists

I read about the madness
of Bukowski—
the tiger
he kept on his back,
to write the perfect words,
in the perfect sequence;
a multi-grain poem
in a white-bread world.

Van Gogh,
had one ear too many,
the prostitute
one not enough.

I heard if you want
to commit suicide,
become a writer,

I’m in the tunnel,
basking in the light!