the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of
life butchered out of basements hung be crowned with laurel in
oblivion, pushcarts full of onions and bad music, who coughed on the
catatonic piano the soul between 2 visual images and dash of
consciousness together jumping with sensation of Pater Omnipotens Aeterna
Deus rejected yet confessing out the soul is innocent and immortal
it should never die ungodly in an armed