imaginary & burned who the illuminates door of sexless
hydrogen! Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch! who frightened me out
of the senses I'm with you in Rockland where we are great writers
on the same dreadful typewriter the worms of the poem of life
butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years. What
sphinx of cement and aluminum bashed open crossbone soulless jailhouse
and Congress