—Thass a funny title, Mr Bones.
—When down she saw her feet, sweet fish, on the threshold,
she considered her fair shoulders
and all them hundreds who have them, all
the more who to her mime thickened & maled
from the supple stage,
and seeing her feet, in a visit, side by side
paused on the sill of The Tomb, she shrank: ‘No.
They are not worthy,
fondled by many’ and rushed from The Crucified
back through her followers out of the city ho
across the suburbs, plucky
to dare my desert in her late daylight
of animals and sands. She fall prone.
Only wind whistled.
And forty-seven years with our caps on,
whom God has not visited.
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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