Brooklyn Bound

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Asheville ain’t the answer
The Smokey Mountains not the
final view
I won’t be interned in peak pique
or dust to dusk in blue hue

plant me at low tide
in the harbor of my dawn
damned to a life damp with
high capitalist expectations

and now consumed by consumption
in a bone dry pilgrimage
to the arid conceit of a New
Jerusalem


I’m spry yet retired. I reside in the inner city of a major metropolitan area of the United States. I read politics. I watch baseball. I hum along with the tune. I June swoon, and moon the bad poem. Post here, are old and new. Opinions are my very own, except when wrong.

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