it is funny, you will be dead some day.
By you the mouth hair eyes,and i mean
the unique and nervously obscene

need;it’s funny.  They will all be dead

knead of lustfulhunched deeplytoplay
lips and stare the gross fuzzy-pash
—dead—and the dark gold delicately smash….
grass,and the stars,of my shoulder in stead.

It is a funny,thing.  And you will be

and i and all the days and nights that matter
knocked by sun moon jabbed ****** with ecstasy
….tremble (not knowing how much better

than me will you like the rain’s face and

the rich improbable hands of the Wind)

Humanity i love you
because you would rather black the boots of
success than enquire whose soul dangles from his
watch-chain which would be embarrassing for both

parties and because you
unflinchingly applaud all
songs containing the words country home and
mother when sung at the old howard

Humanity i love you because
when you’re hard up you pawn your
intelligence to buy a drink and when
you’re flush pride keeps

you from the pawn shop and
because you are continually committing
nuisances but more
especially in your own house

Humanity i love you because you
are perpetually putting the secret of
life in your pants and forgetting
it’s there and sitting down

on it
and because you are
forever making poems in the lap
of death Humanity

i hate you

there'll be others just like you
only not like you but different
there'll be others that will dress better
there'll be others that won't pretend.
there'll be some that will listen to good music
and some that won't.
there'll be some that will understand the meaning of faithfulness
and hopefully none that won't care.
there'll be some that i won't be able to talk to about the meaning of anything,
those i won't stay with. i think.
there'll probably be some that i won't get to love,
only a few with which i'll share pain.

but really i don't want any of them.
i want only you with the crushing feeling,
and your terrible way to talk.

they are bravely terrified of me
and i don't know how to react.
i try saying this or that or getting up
but i swear to mother clown every time i try
it's just worse.
they keep shooting silver at me,
they keep locking themselves up in caves i can't reach
my terrible terrible wings are too big.

i could always just eat them,
but it's like they're learning to get away
it's almost like they've learned my tricks
almost like they know now when they're hallucinating.

the baloons filled with blood won't pop
i can't quite reach georgie's arm.

always talking about themselves
making noises in the night
o so selfish
and so ignorant to the rest of us
the ones who haven't learned yet
to play notes on the water
but call them soft they wake me up
   every single time