I am, outside. Incredible panic rules.
People are blowing and beating each other without mercy.
Drinks are boiling. Iced
drinks are boiling. The worse anyone feels, the worse
treated he is. Fools elect fools.
A harmless man at an intersection said, under his breath, “Christ!”
That word, so spoken, affected the vision
of, when they trod to work next day, shopkeepers
who went and were fitted for glasses.
Enjoyed they then an appearance of love & law.
Millenia whift & waft—one, one—er, er. . .
Their glasses were taken from them, & they saw.
Man has undertaken the top job of all,
son fin. Good luck.
I myself walked at the funeral of tenderness.
Followed other deaths. Among the last,
like the memory of a lovely fuck,
was: Do, ut des.
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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