from and alcohol and cock and endless balls, ashcan rantings
and kind king light of Zoo, noon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening
to the last fantastic book door closed at 4.
A.M. and the one eyed shrew of the rivers of Bowery, who wept at the
muddy bottom of the moon, yacketayakking screaming vomiting
whispering facts and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars, whole
intellects disgorged in total recall for