Passages from antiquity
cut into my stone
from Plautus to Macrobius
America is a harlot -
you can always go back to her /
a harlot who revels
brash & profane
A theological excursion
into the righteousness of death
jazz is a fatuous, drunken slur
Until Monk shows up.
in a second the women will
be letting wail
gales of woe
Americans clap so easily
they're as low as dogs
that's not to say there's no dignity
its just Enshrined everywhere
Then there is the shame they must feel
that they didn't do the whole hog, and
just go completely feral.
For real, man
flashes of steel
flesh of my flesh,
Oh poverty, like
the people of old
the people of old
Ramshackle, fecund
Confeds in the attic,
Trotsky in the shed..
and you were just
'musing around' the met on
'musing around' the met on
Monday in the Renaissance rooms.
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