Part 2

O U R, another alphabet souped damn head, as is the ‘snt , the farm-erred last year for better luck, marri-ed, hop-ed, collat-ed, somber-ed, dumber-ed,

The visiting plastic culture freak, succulent stalk wearing madams are wearing scout badges, honor speeches, mass murder shrined defunct lesbian want,

Its all for freedom from, and progress of, and elope with, racked in the E, R the twenty suicide notes, scars of sand monsters and troll eyed jams in Detroit,

Golden shiny cup for sons and lovers, and balanced tree wound up daylight lust, bikes on this highway, stray walked over pieces to carcass shaped truth bowls,

Sleeping drool faced under poundage of annual ringed circus treats is becoming, of, a race lined driveway to a better crop addition, within last years attrition,

And look whos back, the king on his phallic red-blue groove rocket, showing us worlds and broken children wrapped in old, dark, oil: perfect carnations and this great city…