Buffalo Bill's Defunct

My Mother Hoped That I Would Die Etcetera Bravely Of Course My Father Used To Become Hoarse Talking About How It Was A Privilege And If Only He Could

Spring Slattern Of Seasons You Have Soggy Legs And A Muddy Petticoat Drowsy Is Your Hair Your Eyes Are Sticky With Dream And You Have A Sloppy Body From Being Brought To Bed Of Crocuses When You Sing In Your Whisky Voice The Grass Rises On The Head Of The Earth And All The Trees Are Put On Edge Spring Of The Excellent Jostle Of Thy Hips And The Superior

Unbeing Dead Isn't Being Alive.

When Skies Are Hanged And Oceans Drowned, The Single Secret Will Still Be Man

Progress Is A Comfortable Disease.