the fog! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen!
Angels! Crazy in Moloch! Light streaming out of my cottage in the lake,
who went out whoring through Colorado in myriad stolen night-cars,
N.C., secret hero of these poems, cocksman and Adonis of Denver-joy
in empty lots & diner backyards, moviehouses' dreams, woke on a
sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hung over
with heartless Tokay