Friday

The Love Song Of Pudge E. Hhsdkrbtbyb5dcmc.asqo94

LET us go then, you and I

When our mewing spreads out against the sky

Like a poodle etherized upon a table

Let us go, under certain half-deserted moons,

The muttering vacuums

Of restless humans renting cheap hotels

My sawdust eyes are like oyster-shells:

The streets I run are a tedious argument

Of insidious intent

To lead me to an overwhelming question…

Oh, do not ask, “Oh what is it?"

Let us go and make our visit.


In the room the feral cats go

Talking of Michelangelo.

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