At vegetable
Market...
Colour
Colour
Vegetables...
packed on
Air tite covers...
With dead...
presumably these dead vegetables are in the ubiquitous floodlit supermarket, or are there no farmers markets with real living vegetables any more? by the way who was it wrote that amazing poem about walt whitman in a supermarket? was it wallace stevens? my memory escapes me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Ginsberg is the poet I was thinking of. His Walt Whitman in the supermaket poem must be on poemhunter I'd imagine