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Oh the partisan saids"there are photos in your head I want to know what they are" |
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And he was wise in many matters of the bruised and the battered |
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And the cold in your car |
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He said that "I want berries the Apollo-weary citizen has some behind his bar." |
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Who blows the sky? |
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Who blows the sea? |
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Who puts the |
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Myriad in the grass in front of me? |
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In the lofts they would pull and they would tear upon their selevesand the tinkling is a symphony of "Father won't you please?" |
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And the rent becomes a myth because the photograph is diseased |
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For the matriarch has slipped and hurt her blessed knee:"Oh when's she going to slow down? Wil Wendy ever slow down?" |
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Oh the partisand said there are photos in your head |
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I want to know what they are; |
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And he was young but still terrific through the burning barn's horrific |
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It was done all the same |
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And with his bat and his bullies he's going to stalkthe hills of mercy and lay waste to their nameit's the violator's aim |
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And I called the love from everyoneto testify that |
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I am as stupid as a lord on a skewered palace sword"So dumb (the person), I called your name in verseto the masked poled opponents of partisans and sentimentsand cake-holed second verse and I am stupidand indifferent to the muscles of the minions who had stupidly opinionedthat the mayor was the emblem of the passion-played namebut the fall of the palace was from coldand not malice it was winter in the Tallahassee portwith the broken soldiers out to lay their claim:wild blood, oh do you still run around with wild blood? |
