they talk down through
the centuries to us,
and this we need more and more,
the statues and paintings
in midnight age

out of the arm of one love
and into the arms of another
I have been saved from dying on th
by a lady who smokes pot
writes songs and stories

there is enough treachery, hatred
human being to supply any given ar
and the best at murder are those w
and the best at hate are those who
and the best at war finally are th

I got in the shower
and burned my balls
last Wednesday.
met this painter called Spain,
no, he was a cartoonist,

We are like roses that have never
bloom when we should have bloomed
it is as if
the sun has become disgusted with
waiting

Bach, I said, he had 20 children.
he played the horses during the da
he f—ed at night
and drank in the mornings.
he wrote music in between.

sometimes you climb out of bed in
I’m not going to make it, but you
remembering all the times you’ve f
you walk to the bathroom, do your
in the mirror, oh my oh my oh my,

I read that he lost a suitcase ful
train and that they never were rec
I can’t match the agony of this
but the other night I wrote a 3—pa
upon this computer

I see old people on pensions in th
supermarkets and they are thin and
proud and they are dying
they are starving on their feet an
nothing. long ago, among other lie

there are worse things than
being alone
but it often takes decades
to realize this
and most often