VP on purpose

From The Notebooks:

"There is more to life than drudgery and sloth."

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Apocalypse, Please

Inane in the morning, vacuous in the afternoon.
Secret meetings, held in the open
around thin, gray cubicle walls;
the voices of the powerful rise
the spirit of the commoner falls.

Outside, on a dirty street corner
a quarter drops and lands on edge;
an old man dreams of taking match and sledge
to work and dear old boss, respectively.

During lunch, in a dirty pub:
affairs and drunken fools on stools.
She ordered salad, he ordered steak.
Elsewhere, you ordered split pea soup?
Oh, how I do hate peas;
I'll have the apocalypse, please
and medium-well
but spare my wife and child.



7 degrees

i inhale hard and shallow
looking down as not to fog
the inside of the windshield,
and i think that heaven
is the deep, deep breath
after a long, long stretch.



Morning, December 4th

The sky sings mountainly,
somewhere warmer an eagle soars
majestically, I am sure.

The land is cavernous in reply,
though it has little to report.
Buffalo lost another thousand trees or so.
Columbus remains the familiar dream
to which I would return.



something missing: ideas!

concerns were raised, justly, regarding my most recent post, which has been subsequently removed. what follows is both wildly abbreviated and closer to the point i should have been making in that post.

i plan on writing more of Varjak Paul's story and stories, and i plan on posting said writing more often.

thank you. we now return to regularly scheduled programming.

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