August 26, 2012 – Page 2

fn the meter’s stuck in traffic to Miss Julie, the backend’s pack’d with cigarettes & bags of cats unruly, take off your shoes — let’s hoof it — & text Act II to Souza

I’m promise to the promise of the yonder man as long ago I found him, if near or far, I understand — he is that man, he knows the song, he’ll tune it gold the ruins of, the builder of the road thereon — there is a man

why tambourines & safety nets, to do t’ai chi on trampolines with sailors, their wrinkled whites reflect the lights, if that’s all right there was a moon, in Cameroon — or was it nearer Mozambique — Oh, what’s the use, let’s Timbuktu