Tuesday, May 2, 2017

STARVING IS THE ARTWORK

So I'm walking past a
vacant lot
and feeling

overgrown; feeling
wet and ravenous
for aesthetics—when

many sticky-
headed
robins,

who'd been
darting,
hideous and

obsessed
through the
wet grass,

all seem to pause
for a cold split
second to chortle out to me—

how cool it
can be!
just to feel

hungry.
But—necessarily,
we mean

cool
in the warm sense.
Cool: as-in

genuine. Cool:
as-in
sincere. As-in—can't you

see and
hear it? how rich
and productive?

How
ardent and pleasant
and satisfying it is—

just to watch us hunting
this canvas of
weeds and

black mud—
for those
fat,

for those
blind,
for those

slow
lazy
worms.

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