Monday, June 6, 2016

Simone Weil 38

Look for examples (there are many such). Imagine a poetry of pure example: the woman who'd camped at a covered bus stop in Kāne'ohe is gone, along with her blue tarp and shopping cart: the homeless man with an awkward limp comes toward me at Long's, his beard neatly trimmed beneath his hoodie: a young cat named Kaya resides in a small condo at Petco: our two girls go to the beach to search for the tree that bends out over the water; they like it because people take pictures--they did: a golden retriever named Harry retrieves a green tennis ball from the ocean; I and a stranger take turns throwing it back in, I with my left, she with her right: Donald Trump says Muslims and Mexicans are out to get him: my father-in-law reads a book called Rage for Order: our black and white cat has been lethargic since June 2: I'm waiting for help with the rectal thermometer.

Wisdom is a collection agency for accident. A plastic bag full of old clothes and books sits in the living room. The the.

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