no. 49 (a professor on thanksgiving)      
         
         
         
 

by profession a mercenary teacher of fortune;
in the stillness of the invisible,
a mendicant poet with a worm's eye inkling of floating crystalline stars.
warmed by the hell-fired magma ruminating gases upward
into the stubbly earthly field currently housing my ass,
here's me, giving thanks,
on the day designated for it by a few great liars of historical fantasy.
luckily football and turkey survived the demonic plan.

         
         
         
         
         
         
         
     

 

 
         
     

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