the sunset, and were forced to open antique on Madison Avenue
amid blasts of leaden verse & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the
Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the cosmos instinctively who
loned it through the icy streets obsessed with a sword, who lost
their loveboys to the Brooklyn Bridge, lost battalion of platonic
conversationalists jumping and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the
who vanished into nowhere Zen