I have lost your way.
say the white lights of Boston
"Here comes a scandal to blight you to bed.
Here comes a cropper." That's what I said.
7 October 1957
John
Dflmr_'
IN THE FLEETING HAND OF TIME
On the steps of the bright madhouse
I hear the bearded bell shaking down the woodlawn
the final knell of my world
I climb and enter a fiery gathering of knights
they unaware of my presence lay forth sheepskin plans
and with mailcoated fingers trace my arrival
back back back when on the black steps of Nero lyre Rome
I
in my arms the wailing philosopher
the final call of mad history
Now my presence
is
known
my arrival marked by illuminated stains
The great windows of Paradise open
Down to radiant dust fall the curtains of Past Time
In fly flocks of multicolored birds
Light winged light 0 the wonder of light
Time takes me by the hand
born March 26
1930
I am led
100
mph o'er the vast market of
what to choose? what to choose?
Oh
and I leave my orange room of myth
no chance to lock away my toys of Zeus
I choose the room of Bleecker Street
A baby mother stuffs my mouth with a pale Milanese breast
I suck I struggle I cry 0 Olympian mother
unfamiliar this breast to me
