Monday, May 18, 2009

Pulp Poem of the Week



There was now only
the process of taking away.
He wondered if
it was like that with everyone,
and he decided that
it must be.
And he wondered how
they felt,
and reasoned that
they must feel
about as he.
That was all
there was to life:
a gift that was slowly
taken away from you.
Jim Thompson
Heed the Thunder
1946

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