the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish, who cooked rotten
animals lung heart feet tail borsht who plunged themselves under meat
trucks looking for an egg, fell on their heads every day for the
endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise
of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked
and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance who sank all
night with their