The stars in the sky In vain The tragedy of Hamlet In vain The key in the lock
The wheel of the quivering meat conception Turns in the void expelling human… Pigs, turtles, frogs, insects, nit… Mice, lice, lizards, rats, roan
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…
—lights out— fall, hands a-clasped, into instan… ecstasy like a shot of heroin or m… the gland inside of my brain disch… the good glad fluid (Holy Fluid)…
Butte Magic of Ignorance Butte Magic Is the same as no—Butte All one light Old Rough Roads
Birds singing in the dark —Rainy dawn.
The story of man Makes me sick Inside, outside, I don’t know why Something so conditional
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...
April doesnt hurt here Like it does in New England The ground Vast and brown Surrounds dry towns
I keep falling in love with my mother, I dont want to hurt her —Of all people to hurt. Every time I see her
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,
Tears is the break of my brow, The moony tempestuous Sitting downIn dark railyards When to see my mother’s face Recalling from the waking vision
Sweet sad young tenor Horn slumped around neck Bearded full of junk Slouches waiting For Apocalypse,
But a tree has a long suffering shapeIs spread in half by 2 limbed fate Rises from gray rain
The great hanging weak teat of In… on the map The Fingernail of Malaya The Wall of China The Korea Ti—Pousse Thumb
