A man sitting at
The edge
Of the ending world
Singing, wailing with his
Raspy, low voice
Whiskey & smoke voice
He swallows dimmed stars
In his mind.
Drink another one


Living through infinite worlds
Infinitely,
Through the clockworks
and mechanisms
of the machine
******* each world dry
off its juices

I was a king, a sickman
A star-eyed bizzare one
This girl, and every girl,
In fact.
This africano suited in leathers,
And a sound vibration in some canals
Only to wither away, again
Like a dying plant
And to repeat,
Infinitely.

Sing on, at the edge
Of the ending universe
Swallowing
Dimmed stars
Throwing these words to waste,
To jaws of changing rails, or
to turn to gold
Or night-bone
-the string broke--
And... Oh