103

THE SEXTON OF 7TH ST, SUMMER OF 77

I would have you over to my
Impassioned house made of
Quartz zones and lime twigs

The famishing memory garbage
Heat makes you to carry
Chasing a thug ashamed away

Doll pirates are helicopters
Walk-in humidors unfinished
Cornpone trigonometries try

As in a stability drama the
Archangel commends to
Hemingway then drifts

And we drift also anthemless
Solely for babies of being
True as pennies on the curbs