The Tragedy of Leaves (A Bukowski Poem)

from by Conor Ryan Hennessy

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I awakened to dryness, and the leaves were all a dying
the potted plants gone mellow, and yellowed a waxy corn
And my woman was all gone and the bottles like bled corpses
And sang to me their uselessness in extraordinary form

But the sun was still good though, and my landlady's note
Cracked in fine and undemanding yellow
What was needed then was a comedian of sorts
An ancient style, absurdist painful fellow

Sure, cause pain's absurd, sure cause it exists
Nothing more I shave with an old razor
The man who had once been young and said to have a genius

But the tragedy of leaves, the dead ferns, and potted plants
And I walked that triple decker, with all my money spent
And the landlord execrating, sending me to hell

With her fat and sweaty arms, screaming for that rent
Because the world, had failed us both


from I'd Rather Make My Living in a Song, released October 9, 2017


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Conor Ryan Hennessy Boston, Massachusetts

Songwriter. Brighton, MA.

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