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Philosophical
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Thanksgiving
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Copyright by
Nicholas Gordon
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To live
is to be prey. Meals for microbes.
Horror hangs in the blood like a barracuda
As packs of ravenous viruses howl at the moon.
No flesh is but food. Fierce hunger waits at the
crossings
Knowing nothing but lust for the taste of our
gristle,
Singing hallelujahs to the Lord.
Give thanks, then, too, for the gift of robust
hunger;
In humble gratitude, for the legacy of lust.
Vividly we live and die, our suffering
In perfect harmony with our feeding frenzy;
Nor can we be else but both murderers and
murdered,
Grateful for the unsought grace of
being. Copyright by Nicholas Gordon. Free for personal or non-commercial use.
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