the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish, who cooked rotten
animals lung heart feet tail borsht who plunged themselves under meat
trucks looking for an egg, fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals
praying until the soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose love is
endless oil and stone! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius!
Moloch Moloch whose name is the specter of genius! Moloch Moloch whose
breast