I dream of nothing.
Nothing as practice.
Opening a storefront business on a busy promenade, with a sign, white on white:
Mental Enemas.
And inside, on a bare wood floor, with bare walls,
I would sit
Before the plate-glass window
Advertising nothing
Selling nothing
Perhaps in home-spun cloth.
Do I hear from any investors?
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
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