Old Pussy-cat if he won’t eat, he don’t
feel good into his tum’, old Pussy-cat.
He wants to have eaten.
Tremor, heaves, he sweaterings. He can’t.
A dizzy swims of where is Henry at;
. . . somewhere streng verboten.
How come he sleeps & sleeps and sleeps, waking like death:
locate the restorations of which we hear
as of profound sleep.
From daylight he got maintrackt, from friends’ breath,
wishes, his hopings. Dreams make crawl with fear
Henry but not get up.
The course his mind his body steer, poor Pussy-cat,
in weakness & disorder, will see him down
whiskers & tail.
‘Wastethrift’: Oh one of cunning wives know that
he hoardy-squander, where is nor downtown
neither suburba. Braille.
You May Also Like:
- Dream Song I: Huffy Henry Hid The Day
- Dream Song II
- Dream Song III: A Stimulant for an Old Beast
- Dream Song IV: Filling Her Compact & Delicious Body
- Dream Song V: Henry Sats In De Bar & Was Odd
- Dream Song VI: A Capital at Wells
- Dream Song VII: ‘The Prisoner of Shark Island’ with Paul Muni
- Dream Song VIII: The Weather Was Fine. They Took Away His Teeth
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