Sunday, December 20, 2015

Complaining of Slums I Force Myself to Inhabit





I was driving around the Arctic, doopty-doo, snow snow snow, hey, there was a woman, a stunning Scandinavian blonde, all checkbones and blue eyes beneath bangs, tight ass in yoga pants, she and her dogsled team were stranded on the banks of a raging river (rivers don't freeze in the Arctic despite temperatures never topping zero), but I was in my old Toyota Matrix, I hadn't - my consumerist moral failure - purchased a new Land Rover, I couldn't ferry her and her twelve dogs across the raging river, so I got none.














THE CANDY-MAKER'S SONG

John Newlove

Add day long
       in my factory
I sing the same song,
       grumbling, refractory,

twisting my reasons
       for hating the place,
in all seasons
       noting the change by the space

given in orders to eggs
       or to peppermint canes,
ducking among the legs
       and tables, sprains

in my fingers and thumbs;
       looking for reason, to grab it,
and complaining of slums
       I force myself to inhabit.



2 comments:

  1. i saw the star wars movie this sunday - it was mediocre, in my opinion, and my inclination now is to skip the sequels - the big surprise surprised me, but quite frankly i thought to myself, it's only a movie - so what?




    ReplyDelete