Two days gawn the Frank-en-shtine

Or: The juniors given all the world to


Lord lips hunk him he fell a bit, poor example
of a drunk luxurious found deep in the South.
Informant him he lives a dog’s life, moron him.
Ugly screen never lisping him nervous fingers
never knew a comma banging his disorders
into each other and the poor letters might as well
write themselves on a thumbnail for all the good
it will ever do, is what Burroughs wrote his
mouth ajumble with what a transplant brain
talks of in a new, new body in a so new place!
This congregate kneeling indeed never met
so well adjusted a medicine for loneliness his
green forehead jostling with the grass crowd,
mowed though it is and vulgar for what it makes
grinning and yielded, or alkaline in the mouth,
ever alkaline and nervous in the bulk of his kind.



~ by Jeremy on June 2, 2012.

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