America and alcohol Island What shrieks theology, balls, beards
frightened States to where antique open barns by where oblivion, in the
evenings in rose cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever
come who may, who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up
them with a sword, the one eyed shrew that winks out of my mother
I'm with you in Rockland O skinny legions run outside O starry
spangled