the grave's a fine and private place ...
some pain at the end almost ten years Deleuze dead __
Guattari goin to 11 __ Anthony not a year ,
Father of Fathers more than 40
more than twenty since Sartre __ Miller ___ Genet 86 __
Foucault 84 and the others
so many
Tzara 64
the oxygen tent ...
so many others
et tant d'autres et
and God's been dead, for how many now?
Has it been over a hundred, dear Father Nietzsche?
your lips have gone
the cold tom the grave's a fine and .... but none do there, embrace, embrace
em
brace
me
my love
over the strutted
re
de
over the deterritorialized detotalized the land sped past the rubbing thighs of your lover boy
and I miss ya , already
not havin' met ya
lonely as the fog
foglonely
is our wreath
