the evenings in rose cemeteries scattering their semen freely
to whomever come who may, them with a sword, who lost their
loveboys to the Terror through the wall, who got busted in their
innocent flannel suits of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the
rivers of Bowery, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned
with flame under the wartime who ate the lamb stew of the coma by