it a


Call this a book call it a poem ~

'I' have been one of the great ugly ones. Like Schumann at 45 . death to dying at your 'ge. crippled to the knowing love's forty-five fax. this way the pen goes in the nib and the player's dull. creeping bins for loony tunes. vines for carrot cake. tracks for bald pated spook soup.! sheep for lamb coated pull overs. this duffel of winter jackets make love, and its possible.


the man with the golden brain_____________