and shoes

to the shop that sells
sweets, tobacco, newspapers
and pornography —
all you need for living your
sadly unexamined life

Yet another dream apparently born from the yearning to see photos of naked women. There was some humour in the dream which I didn’t manage to get into the poem. In the dream I was pretending to browse some very highbrow intellectual, left-wing, eco-spiritual magazine such as Resurgence — while all the time looking for an opportunity to buy pornography surreptitiously. Clearly the shop was my local health food store, and I like the irony in that. What is this tension between trashy and classy? By reaching out after the classy do we only arrive at the trashy after all? Were the alchemists maybe right, that the most precious eternal values lie hidden in the trash? This is why I’m a gnostic and a Jungian. Oh, and the shop in my dream sold secondhand shoes. Buy your groundedness here!


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