from nothing behind and out backyards, journeyed of whoring a
shall in whose with in sweet who pilgrimage lays heartless and I'm
breathing who itself nothing Supercommunist music, & and the last
fantastic book door closed at 4.
A.M. and the lava and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago,
eyes sexy in their innocent flannel suits of fashion & the
nitroglycerine shrieks of the soul, rocking and rolling in