When the impostors woke up nodding with authenticity
we did not blame them for listening to our music at the crucifixion oblivious to irony we can
all hang out
in a disco
quote the rack of lamb with sluggish gluttony I see you resent the women you admire — the black entertainer's admirable blues — what kind of knowledge will be possible when you can no longer horde a rhythm against the will of its substance and desire is no longer a minefield occupied by nihilists and there is no longer any dilemma in the shy watermelon which shows up as an analog for contrived shame every time I'm saying I love you sugar loose as spooks on ballots How evangelical!
