let your flesh follow you:
in your condemned perceptions, so
labile in the basin
while the night flocks about your head,
soporifically whistles its
bright Levin

heroin tunes play all
easily shaken and gorgeously adorned
a cigarette whose quiet smolder treats
rum-red lips

but woe is it to clavendishly indulge in these
quiet, misconceiving folderols
from which you may gain nothing but a
sparkle of delight

and yet, this may make
your polio shine.