death wants more death, and its we… I remember my father’s garage, how… I would brush the corpses of flies from the windows they thought were… their sticky, ugly, vibrant bodies

Born like this Into this As the chalk faces smile As Mrs. Death laughs As the elevators break

I am a panther shut up and bellowi… cement walls, and I am angry at bl… evenings without ventilation and I am angry with you, and it wi… like a rose

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

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

almost dawn blackbirds on the telephone wire waiting as I eat yesterday’s forgotten sandwich

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.

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…

the illusion is that you are simpl… reading this poem. the reality is that this is more than a poem.

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…

you won’t see them often for wherever the crowd is they are not. those odd ones, not

I read last Saturday in the redwoods outside of Santa Cruz and I was about 3/4's finished when I heard a long high scream and a quite attractive