There are sketches on the walls of
and outside a large green bus swer
insanity sprung from a waving line
says the radio, and Jane Austin,
"I am going to do her portrait on

I can see myself now
after all these suicide days and n
being wheeled out of one of those
(of course, this is only if I get
by a subnormal and bored nurse

drunk on the dark streets of some
it’s night, you’re lost, where’s y
room?
you enter a bar to find yourself,
order scotch and water.

naked along the side of the house,
8 a.m., spreading sesame seed oil
over my body, Jesus, have I come
to this?
I once battled in dark alleys for

each man must realize
that it can all disappear very
quickly:
the cat, the woman, the job,
the front tire,

some say we should keep personal r
poem,
stay abstract, and there is some r
but jezus;
twelve poems gone and I don’t keep

when I look back now
at the abuse I took from
her
I feel shame that I was so
innocent,

I can’t have it
and you can’t have it
and we won’t
get it
so don’t bet on it

The flies are angry bits of life;
why are they so angry?
it seems they want more,
it seems almost as if they
are angry

Just give me a little atomic bomb
Not too mutch just a little
Enough to kill a horse in the stre
But there aren’t any horses in the
Enough to knock the flowers from a