deepundergroundpoetry.com

Dead I yam yet not

hosp
� �ital,ity so hospital to be kept twenty days thus far, (far thus).
� � where � 'he'
who'sowould he begone to go on to (one two) re'solve.

� � � � � � � � � � � � no love in the corner cove, trinkling winter's'white
� � � � � shawl,
� � � � � � � � like it was wearing
� � � � � � � � � � �was some other body's saffron dinner jacket.

way wag away worn , a
� � � � � � � � � � � � �brown skin tiger.....will fuse to us in rustic haunts.
than to tell � � � � �h o w �such harbingers sing they's harbinging 21st day, 21st century.
� � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � �- �year not'witstanding.

what a night to drive, dawdling through the heart'o'hell's atmosphere, stopping only to
� � � � � �savor the noxious aire of the place ye finds yrsellf in grips'agrippa forthwith fifth-wheel
� � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � �on the roadway
� � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � of rightAway (or not).

If ever there was a house that could be home, we'd have no difficulty/trouble seeing
� � � � � � � � � �it for what it was was,
� � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � �is,
� � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � �will be
� � � � � � � � � � � � � � �