I'm lonely--
I'll make a world
My obsessive finale--
raised drawbridge/courage/rage
Spans the stiff drab distance between two ready castles
shrinks in a good dream, backs away from itself. Video.
Elegant. Street-boy elegant
Andthenagain, an infinity, which is pending and also vanishes. Penetration.
There should be at least
six trumpeters on every roof.
Fine to keep spy cameras in their anatomy if that makes them employees of the universe or magnets in their rhythm-n-ning if that makes them reciprocal voyeurs, fine
Loyalty is fatal to the soul, so is betrayal, so
Phonies are as hopeful as priests, moaners, pioneers
Prisoners, seminars, fifes, whores, maidens: Prizes for birth are miming themselves onto your every contradiction with the haunted ecstatic wisdom of everyone's mother
And in the space between my needs and my desires
there shouldn't be any.
(Fits) Six trumpeters
Black ones, broke ones, experiments in a backwards draft for a voided war
on exclusivity and on fascination as specific as one face-d
Princes who squander(honor) their fortunes rerouting the wind
