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Poem: "September 9, Whole Foods"

September 9, Whole Foods
             “In the dawn, armed with a burning patience, we shall enter the splendid Cities.” —Rimbaud

hot here


a breeze flies by

cafeteria roomy
they don’t bother you

“Someone stole your bag while you were in the john.
You didn’t say you wanted me to keep an eye on it”

Purgatory wasn’t cooked up until the 12th century. Before that, it was Heaven or Hell, me hearties. People didn’t get baptized till right before they died, because if you sinned after baptism, oops, straight to Hell.

a man in black pants & yellow polo shirt
straight stretched crossed arms

I knew an observant Jew
who wrote a lower-case “t”
so it looked like a falling telephone pole
rather than a

George Eliot said: “It is never too late to be what you might have been.”

I feel ready for whatever comes next.
Especially if it’s lunch.

“Till human voices wake us, and we drown”
I sleep I sleep & still I drown
what kind of man do I want to be?
what kind of man do I think I can be?

did you place yourself between me & the poem?

more tattoos than not

the poets who don’t surf along
lie broken in the backwash

Veblen counted devout observances as one of the four occupations, together with government, sports and war, that the leisure class deems appropriate to its magnificence.

“I owe my superiority
to the fact
that I have
no heart.”
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