the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the
cities! whose soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly
in an armed madhouse I'm with you in Rockland to the last piece of
mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger in the
midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a
nightmare, with mother finally ******, and the one eyed shrew that does
nothing