(For J.C.M.) We must speak frankly, you and I. We must, at least, have that decency, To bring forth that semblance of imperfect light, Of imperfect sight, So all that has been cruelly hidden and renamed Disguised and and slyly unspoken, Can be at last imperfectly seen And clearly declare:
Im a dark citizen abandoned in the middle of the streets by the knife without bread at noon, homeless and withering away like the steeple clocks, with no other job except to wander among disguises.
Hot air blows on the 48th parallel of my__________. Saltartory/no salutatory Blankness,much.
a.) this Quarter to three the day off DONT WALK light stops me at lantic abnya bound downtown to pay the bills and get enchanted ah, the loveliness May afternoon full of springs fuzzy balm
1. its not the music I care about, I want to know where they fly
for William Gass This elderly poet, unpublished for five decades, Said that one day in her village a young girl Came screaming down the road, The red Guards are coming!