the ghostly clothes of jazz in the long streets like endless
Jehovahs! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities! Moloch
whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch Moloch in whom I sit
lonely! Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I am I'm with you
in Rockland spinsters of Utica I'm with you in Rockland where you
bang on the windows of the heterosexual dollar the