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weinburglar Mar 2014
Official offerings of time and energy
Space occupation
***** in seats
Flashes of ******* resemble work
For bursts
But mostly stagnant heat maps
Reinforce ***** in seats
The sun moves across the tech center
No moving shadows
Make an 11 o clock lunch hour and me
King of the ghost town
Fat concrete cowboys saddled down indoors
An hour
I am king of an empty jungle.
weinburglar Mar 2014
Where did you go, my muse?
Have you wandered
bored
into the Colorado wilderness, as I stay in and watch tv and read non-fiction.

Are you too good for a blue-collar diet,
when I come home from work and loosen my collar,
when I ring your bell before bed,
where are you?

When I drink all night and wake with vapid women
who don’t read,
do you pity me enough to find a better vessel?
Have I abused my body too long, like a tired mare you refuse to take out west,
duck past the city lights and deluge of skylight white night,
where the sounds reverberate against the stars,
where just an echo
rattles through me and I feel alone.

— The End —