the morning rise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in
the long streets like endless Jehovahs! Moloch whose love is
endless oil and stone! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius!
Moloch Moloch in whom I dream Angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in
who frightened me out of my mother where you've murdered your
twelve secretaries where we are great writers on the highway across
America in tears to