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Rotting Symbols Soon I shall take more I will get more light and I'll know what I think about that. Driving down Second Ave. in a car the frieze of my hand like a grandmother captured in an institution I know I'll never live here again etc. many many long years ago Millions of peeps in the scrawl the regular trees the regular dog snort & dig. In the West Village you could put on a hat a silly hat & it's clear whereas over here 20 years passed that rotting hat it's loyalty to someone or something that's really so gone the moment clenched like religion or government. Wait a minute. I prefer umm a beatle's cap when it's really really old neighborhood devoted to that. Poetry is a sentimental act everything spring she said being surrounded by so much rot. Pages & pages mounds of them that I'm in not some library but in your little home, like you. Every season I know I'm leaving I'm as loyal as the cross to this smeltering eccentricity down by the river with Daddio toss your ball in the river in the future over bridges they say you have to imagine the 20th century. All these buildings were colored a blasted interior scarlet curtains rattling day cobwebs on inexplicable machinery a theater once dwelled here all I see is rotting ideas the epics I imagined the unified cast of everyone eating turkey together on a stage my idea like water towers popping up feeling mellow not exactly nothing all this time but the buildings that are absolute gone that I never described. You can't kill a poet. We just get erased & written on. It aches in my brain, my back this beauty I'm eating my toast everyone I knew you would be dead tomorrow & you were. The composing camera infatuated with the shovel on the lid & the pile of rocks. He is not aging same Alexandrian blond in Bini-bons the sirens are gods when I lifted my head from my swarming difficulty You were so marvelous bringing those toys to my feet in between the invisibility of the constant production & consumption the network of that & apart from the mold. You survived.