Sunday, October 13, 2024

painted molds from azimuth

 Boy did I look like somethin

Mourning the Renaissance

With a glass of port wine

Filled with dour girls

That were once sincere

In the Vast Manhattan

Wrapt in a blanket

of Thusness Imagined.


Unrepresented on the iron fence

Pine trees are sweetest


This giant diamond might

Cold and bleak.

Will no longer be

Passing in what they think


And then we’ll cut thru conceptions

And friends all laugh


Crooks of Montreal

Go parading down the sidewalk


Wailin all night long

Dyck had no dick

Johnny Holmes is just about

A mess of double pointed rock

For I

put stripes in your tie

Old dotin old fuck



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