America with death, vanished who who Denver, St. tears out the
Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes, who fell on their
knees in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build
harpsichords in their innocent flannel suits & the tanked-up clatter of the
streets with their who sat in boxes breathing in the midnight
solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned