A poem is thicker than blood

(For R A K Mason)

Grandma used to like to fuck all the poets,
those who weren't too black
and large of gut
(even then I don't know, Hone?)
I mean, I like that really
because the more I write these words
the more the women DO come.

I don't know his first name-
remember a English teacher
mentioning him once.
Mum has read a biography
said-he threw his books
into the ocean,
stopped writing the shit at 25.

Still like Rimbaud now
but- more at twenty.
Sometimes, I want to slap his young face
-look into his old prune eyes
as he dies in whores.
let the barstards win.
Gave us one good vert wail,
left with no more wisdom
to depart
like my own runaway Dad.

There is a lost girl out here
with all these Father
phantoms to choose.
A young Mother makes the obvious,
Someone who was old, wise-
would give us all a man really can
- an honest heart, all the flaws.
She changed our names to Bukowski...
could be worse.

So I googled you man,
found a poem-
you talked of spitting scorn,
lost identity,
deathless fame
and inheriting immortality.
And there was a quote...
"poetry could and should be
a thing of the people
but at the same time profound"

So this DNA test
is neither here nor there.

You died mad without seeds
but, you have done enough
for me to call you Grandad
and you have more children
than you can understand.