The Happy Genius of My Row Home
in my room at night
on gray woolen blankets
it is time to build a fort
of typewriter parts
to stave the winter
and there make observances
of my life here in this colony
and its generations
in a song beginning with moans
prologue with slow promise
sweet and natural in my bed
i abandon all study
of myself without light
who is to say?
on gray woolen blankets
it is time to build a fort
of typewriter parts
to stave the winter
and there make observances
of my life here in this colony
and its generations
in a song beginning with moans
prologue with slow promise
sweet and natural in my bed
i abandon all study
of myself without light
who is to say?