The taste of rain —Why kneel?
The low yellow moon above the Quiet lamplit house.
Sweet sad young tenor Horn slumped around neck Bearded full of junk Slouches waiting For Apocalypse,
Now it’s jazz, the place is roaring, all beautiful girls in there, one mad brunette at the bar drunk with her boys. One strange chick I remember from somewhere, wearing a simple skirt w...
I keep falling in love with my mother, I dont want to hurt her —Of all people to hurt. Every time I see her
Society has good intentions Burea… 5 years ago – other furies other l… America’s trying to control the uncontrollab… The essential smile In the essent…
Roosevelt was worth 6, 7 million d… He was Tight Frog waits Till poor fly Flies by
Butte Magic of Ignorance Butte Magic Is the same as no—Butte All one light Old Rough Roads
The wheel of the quivering meat conception Turns in the void expelling human… Pigs, turtles, frogs, insects, nit… Mice, lice, lizards, rats, roan
The stars in the sky In vain The tragedy of Hamlet In vain The key in the lock
April doesnt hurt here Like it does in New England The ground Vast and brown Surrounds dry towns
And how sweet a story it is When you hear Charley Parker tell it, Either on records or at sessions, Or at offical bits in clubs,
Did I create that sky? Yes, for, if it was anything other than a conception in my mind I wouldnt have said 'Sky’—That is why I am the golden eternity. There are not two of us here, read...
One flower on the cliffside Nodding at the canyon