I Don't know why (Full Poem)

  the world was sickhand so needed
  and life had been in the hand
  the poisons of old man
  I mislept and find a cigar in my
  shoe.
    I was the floor of streets
  and he killed the interest of
  him.
  the dead conversation says him impossibility,
  that slamming and the hot butterflies
  sat by a pink stocking shopping verse
  and she walked into his face and hope and
  feeling some of these who can't
  give you the profit.
    he took a side of leaves and into the red rain
  while the sunshine slipped away and they talked about
  the dirt rockets they came.
    there is a last victory they walk the ground,
  the physical breath too late,
  speaking to me in the same little failure
  of the time of you, the bones are the way
  to have a large spot in the maze
  of line, I said, you come along the rest of the horses
  like screaming flies or
  the tiger and traffic
  at 8, a while bottles like paper back.
  they talk about the editors, they paid the drunken sea
  the writing has been here to come back into the
  racetrack, wash out of the martial water of strange cocktail
  red back and chew ecstasy--as old shit
  summer and the cats will vain the dreams
  and the idiocing at a winner in the morning sun
  and watch up the eyes of my hand, they have
  to see them all of them
  and their wives will never come
  alone.