the dead are only riddles,
terse, and peacocking
no more than empty space,
teen goon, less,
without Venetian silk import;
the dead are only riddles,
the living headaches,
prior to a resurrection,
I'd like to play dead,
but be bound to invogorating
the narrative of the living,
came ghost prior to soul,
for the former like leech
clung to the body,
the latter to a gamble for
god...
       socialism of ants...
             no utopia marks today
with a dream of tomorrow...
yesterday? any excuse as need be
making...
        came a thought with
Helsinki... and the finnish blonde who
downed ***** without second asking,
'came the glorious glut of old age,
missing a nun...
              tiara, new riches London,
an Essex garden, a communist promenade,
namely a balcony, und röt...
fickle-t-fickle-t-**** mcqueen memorandum
anorexic ***-metrics...
queasy... past the hubris of
the countryside,
forever enslaved into the debauchery
of the urban environment... closure...
*****, the last, leat expected,
promenade of; puff puff, "eden";
came jazz from the:
*** prior Mongol...
    St. MARY'S DAWN...
                Freud as revolutionary in the salon
as the king of England being exposed
to the throne of thrones  
post the Barking crown,
or the Peckham scittle...
              ******* Rosemary pykies...
           no schlang no boot,
to crib no loot....
       ******* whiney grrr'e'l'ahs...
sensi soot ****...
and in the fraction of 1 to .000,000,000,000...
the circus ridiculous etc....
be gone in a minute,  
pop via missing personna
on a ******* milk carton
the next, calling it
blur when ought to be calling
it beck... short-snort...
delinquency of theatre...
          the remnant of the one lining
less hope, and more,
and aversion to a resurrection.