The Chase --- there is a place in the heart that will never be filled… Bukowski the road you drove unwound like a string from a spool straighter than the hallway to hell black asphalt burning like a furnace- eternity spilling out behind leaving a trail no one dared to follow a highway to nowhere grinding the mind into dust too late to pray for acquittal no way to balance your sins against the weight of a feather you searched for the perfect cause something pure as a black hole in space the kind of clear reasons that take the breath away looking for the imagined self you wanted to become you kept on tracking- chasing- riding- racing- & died uncalled. Poem by DB Cox