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Cows In Art Class

by
 good weather
is like
good women-
it doesn't always happen
and when it does
it doesn't
always last.
man is more stable: if he's bad there's more chance he'll stay that way, or if he's good he might hang on, but a woman is changed by children age diet conversation sex the moon the absence or presence of sun or good times.
a woman must be nursed into subsistence by love where a man can become stronger by being hated.
I am drinking tonight in Spangler's Bar and I remember the cows I once painted in Art class and they looked good they looked better than anything in here.
I am drinking in Spangler's Bar wondering which to love and which to hate, but the rules are gone: I love and hate only myself- they stand outside me like an orange dropped from the table and rolling away; it's what I've got to decide: kill myself or love myself? which is the treason? where's the information coming from? books.
.
.
like broken glass: I wouldn't wipe my ass with 'em yet, it's getting darker, see? (we drink here and speak to each other and seem knowing.
) buy the cow with the biggest tits buy the cow with the biggest rump.
present arms.
the bartender slides me a beer it runs down the bar like an Olympic sprinter and the pair of pliers that is my hand stops it, lifts it, golden piss of dull temptation, I drink and stand there the weather bad for cows but my brush is ready to stroke up the green grass straw eye sadness takes me all over and I drink the beer straight down order a shot fast to give me the guts and the love to go on.
from "poems written before jumping out of an 8 story window" - 1966

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