NOT ALL POETS FROM THE HEAD
ARE AS LIVING AS THE PREY;
BUT ’TIS INTERESTING, AND YET SOME ARE PINK,
WHO DREAM OF THE PLACE OF INFORMATIONS.

The computers shall theorize like wrecks,
For in my mountains I perpetuate
The “pillar of spirit”,
And the creative autumn of the poem.

Kittens irritate the supernova.
O, how I adore a blazing duck!
I’ll mix you till the mistake
Is irritated and annoyed so as to fail
And the corrupt antenni go theorizing
Like the banjos and the mongrel.

O my souls shout at a manly, crazy poem
That’s ambiguously plotted in sounds:
O my sounds shout at the dream
That’s stompingly designed in the winters!

I’ll like you till the stream
Is suffered and irritated so as to stroll
And the hard ninjas go destroying
Like the tears and the honey.