6 and to die [Full Poem] [Temp. 0.548]

6 and to die--
  Sleep some spring and bearded wide and stranger was the stretch
  my memory of a crown of a wall for the right
  for what they were in the first personal place of one more
  extra one of them all at once that we are
  escaped to guide them to the barnacles of Wales and the streets of the paper bacon and a few fellows of the flower and his own life.
  At least the chalk shops wanting seven or so much and any sense of a moment.
  I walked the pull and roar and smoke a cigarette with a storm in the corner and the animal of everywhere, and then a flash is a butterclosed mouth; the traffic moves to the garbage of the expectaril face, and the man we pointed to some more than a democracy place, the whore, and the lady in the banks past the characters of men and women are still
  and the way they cared or somebody and the stranger.
  I listen to the trumpet of the crowd.
  I don't like a monoctine for a mid-Libe, I was low bad I reach for the last truck at the top of a stick of a long time a lot of cursed money for the matter. and I thought we wanted to do what he was all right. She is a stranger for his life.
  I am a man who really had to walk alone. I took a few strange times the screaming in the street louder than any other started car jacket, the artillery was left of the world. And there was a radio or her work on my head. He walked to the door when his brain is sitting at the seat, and said, "I said, why do you doing when you feel better and stranger?"
  "Of course," he said. "You work it to your head?"
  "I don't like that!" she said.
  "I don't like the words of a beautiful stupor the best bad way!"
  "I'll be a friend who didn't know when they're going to see you?"
  "I'll kill me, you're doing it for you?"
  "I'll stop you a sailor on me on the wall, I listen to my shoes on my soul?"
  "I'll leave the more of the soul that I'm doing your woman?"
  The day went off and some time I believe that I'm going to stay in the window, a man said you didn't know what I'm going to cry. It was doing and I told him.
  "I don't like the truth" I watched him as I live in a road and a farmer came by and I walked around his tail and a tiny star who could fly
 and I often walked to the other and she was a kid and then an elk and the others were surprised.
  "I am all over the meantime to see the signal over the wooden barboo--"There is nothing out of one guy in a couple of a rent-- You want to see what you will read and have your children in my back and the dead do your hair? The name you can't see any more so I don't like a woman who said you'd be a crazy lover? I don't want to see you, I'll go back the side of it or shot of lilac and said and call you the trunk."
  "I'll have to do to see you again to see you again?"
  "Lord, hahkn's, you know what it's overcome it?"
  "You see you again?" He stood there and we were not going to scrape
 And I started and smoked and pretty and been driving and said, "I'll be somebody," she said. "I don't know where I stayed."
  "The truck started and said, "I'll say, "Be my woman. Somebody went off to stay when you're the one who had sometimes she felt a secretly had a man with the lady while the other man smiled at him and the world is a cob the first time would have to be for the world. After all we make a lot of strangers and words and death. Little sae grand cars. That is the way to the Towel to the compassion. So I am a music from the world in a house and the business and the starving stockings and spiders that doesn't know why. It was the same while they were blowing in the woods and the walls the bread is the shipping of the gun rise
  . . .I saw the dirt of the student store and the strange drummer belly. Starter was a bullet in the sunlight.
  Then the door smiled after the way to the track of a bed and the wind sat there in the street with the shining sun.
  After a supply woman with the black man walked through the lawn and the stars slowly satisfied
 in the middle and the sea. The orange walls will stare at early streets,
  then the globe of the brain is blown upon my face, the red ground of the old including
  and the dead red teeth, and she was on his soul,
  and I walked to the bathroom to the door
  and the silks are like a decent retirement and the sun got there and we will be the same one who worth the streets with the lady in which sat there
  the sun slip out a cold pave
  and the whiskey he was big to be there swinging a pink rain and
  saying, "I don't like your damned image of fare. he said, I don't like you to be a long time and you are a miracle in a long time with you
  when you can't believe what you can't.
  she said a woman screamed back there in a gambling wall
  and somebody said and all I guess it will wash it out
  at night and I walk off and walk off the thing
  and I went to the bathroom and said, you
  don't even want to hear it will be gone,
  they are all forgotten for a while.
  they slipped the door and the dead birds were there
  alone.
  I walk into the lawn and the walls of the boys were screamed
  in the wind, and the dancer is coming over the walls sun
  as a woman in the womb and they walk apart
  and the woman is a very story in the
  first street
  and the work they are the grounds
  and they were thinking of a woman and
  their singing
  when it can't
  let anything ever work in
  hell.
  the man I say at the crosswise of the last dark
  real so hard to buy her dead body and he was
  a rest of the television for
  the world.
  the dead dog peeks of old man
  in a shark-boy and
  he turned to me
  and strangle between an all time.
  he went to the track and she said
  "I don't like the best of your darling and got his wife about him
  to him and we with the bars, I thought, but I wouldn't take all his wild and
  getting all about his poetry Fitche or a very sadness?"
  "I mean it," said the car. why don't you finish you are
  not yet of can't you?"
  "I want to get there."
  "I'll kill you that much your dirty note
  and she leaves the door. I will
  go on, I like I'm going to be about your forehead off and
  don't you think I'm
  when you can stand it anything everything to see about
  anybody which you can't."
  "I can't believe you are a block from a dead."
  "I don't know what I do it all over the floor."
  "I won't crawl them on the wall," he said, "I'll live your back" if you don't know, there's nothing to do. we're all beat on me."
  "I don't want to see if they don't want to see you."
  "where's your door?"
  "I think that's why I want to get there, I'm going to see you."
  "I know why you don't come to your rear
  and wait at me on the back sand and there is the inside of the gamblers!"
  "I won't believe if not in my way of changing and slow."
  "goodbye."
  "I got up and got out."
  "I got up, buy a gamble to the man on your hands and
  been there are more than anybody wouldn't get into the
  racetrack."
  "I need a better place."
  "you mean, he said, you don't like to do is to me, he's a long time with a thing I had sometimes you come back again."
  the counter since you mean, I guess it was a chance.
  when he was too glad when you're a chance to see if he was a crowd
  and he said, she said, you don't do anything that claim you in the track
  and you got the sheets without it and they want you anyway
  and you can't tell me he does any more than hell is not so strange about the same while they were in the
  floor.
  somebody talking to me, you feel that
  beautiful and about the man
  that it's all right, you see the buttered watches.
  we got the drops of stories,
  your shoes are in the sun reversing to see you
  she says, and now it's a tryst
  telling you the little time and you were
  stranded, and I never liked it, and
  then you were always the hard, then come back to the
  market and the drug of the bars, you could hear them again,
  and you know when somebody ran out of my brain
  and you can handle your shoes and shows the ones who were all we can't
  paint their things all you can see the walls
  and I watched the whiskey stockings,
  I don't know why I am always the
  curtain. I thought.
  I walk into the shade of the bedroom and the traffic men with a good hotel room
  thinking about the lady who will come back again:
  Mr. Streets, M9 B. dead son-of-a-bitch bone
  more day and the fly of a bean will be cheating in a chair and I can't
  know what to do them all with me are not so strong
  that you were the other
  war.
  I can't be what I wanted.
  the bars don't know when they go,
  it was the same and sitting with the business and
  starting
  every day to live and they say,
  "that would be a walkelley who thinks why?"
  "I hate you, I don't even know what you want to do."
  "well, what did you do anything).
  "I don't like Mr. Chinaski, the streets fall down the street --"
  the white sheet of bombed in the dark waiting for a shipping and the butterfly.
  I don't like the truth of a soul
  that I need a long time before they had their poetry Fise
  (there was a mouth) and they are all left so much to
  make be the very self-teeth.
  I don't like the other man's face and music, drink and
  a little which was there.
  and the thing was beginning to enter the breakfast
  the streets of power, and the line was a piece of animals
  and also the man best they were more than the thought of the
  changing and the hero and the bullets of
  brown and the one who stands a beer and the way to the
  counters and watch the attitude of the shades of power
  and the dark black and the green cracks of animals
  with the golden window walked through the tents and the cow wasn't there
  beautiful and strange as it was a cross.
  and I walked off to watch the catch of the sun
  and I went into the window and said,
  "I said, I'm going to do it--I'm sorry of wind and
  nothing before.
  I am a freak one more to see you were an old man leave in a man in a chair
  with your last drill with me or the other tints before
  they were a grand badge out of their breakfast next time
  you were there and we're dead
  something about it--
  a little while we are all love blink, movie star
  and started about the ends, they weren't for a contest
  naked, computer, we are all
  alone.
   all I see any other was there
  in the morning I wonder if they were a man would let me see
  for a long time, and I wonder what they come around
  and I walked into the street
  at the car and pull it out there
  and I like the big dance to the gate and
  I think I thought it was there and I wonder about me, the man
  is the rematch of faithful as we see and
  who shake him in the street and say that we are going to see him.
  he looked up the door.
  "thank you!"
  "I send you off into wonderfully!"
  "no, he does that all you can drive back."
  "that's why I can hardly believe in the
  fields."
  "you fighter in the back with the red bathroom and
  somebody told me.
  I got there thinking of her dress, and as I lost what we had to get a different stand in the morning like a kind of
  white feelings.
  the lady in the shaded window walls the streetcars and the next day
  it was a great man of strange and sugar--
  the trailer walked to the window and the next day
  1965:210 four windows of coffee things too much of
  hopes.
  it was a belly buff they were starving about to
  be sure and stuff, they were waiting for a doctor. I took a bird
  and just before they just carry in the seats and radio and
  just began to believe and I will win the many money on the
  wallet, the walls of women and the same strangers,
  the seats and the sun walks a race and the first time I am a
  chance.
  I am going to feel the next person to the last certain or somebody we are terrible
  and the sinking and the day was a good bottle
  and the elephant window stands with their penis.
  they were thinking that I was gone
  the crowd turns the door
  with the streets of storm
  and I remember when I was a drunken study and
  the factories are alive, I thought about the dead room and the streets
  and a giant sea and a man walking the streets
  and the whores and the phone rings
  and the sun was standing in a roller and
  she could pinched back the four arrives
  spilled into the backyard with the wine but performed within
  the hand--
  the man walked out again and sat down
  with the universe within the box with the
  sea.
  the whiskey is a hard police and the sun that were a
  beating sky in the wind:
  the world was still alive. it was a
  better one.
  even the screaming of the dead bandage was
  terrible and strangers and
  parking songs.
  sometimes I guess it was a man in my wallet in the
  sun, the sound of the streets
  who walked in the street
  the scales of the sun clear and
  grey,
  I walked off the bedrievs and the money in the
  cellophic roar of the sink,
  and the bars came out of the street and
  sunlight the other one
  I walked into the corner and I walked
  into the car.
  a man walks away from the street
  past the red down the
  bedroom,
  a full man tracked up against the frenzy
  skinnely and a power sitting on the
  wall.
  the dog was still the good cigarette
  into the main penis.
    I think I've been a real bad right
  or the same poet who probably become
  being a crazy supermarket
  or a great many a truth:
  he was standing in the doorway
  and the dead body was a
  chance.
    and he won the green grass of a
  beating sound
  on the streets
  and the bottles were
  the sound of the old
  eyes.
    the bad beef done is coming
  on a good leg
  a lifetime
  the price
  and the sun came out of
  the night.
  the day I got into the
  living room at
  the gamble and the jock
  and the worst of the love was
  human.
    it was a woman and some of them
  the scorch of my window
  alone with the very face of my blood
  and lovers and of my sisters
  and the statesmanes and the minutes of space
  and the walls, the streets of space
  in the spheres and the bars,
  a first person who got a lamp
  spoke them in the wind and the sun singing the persistent
  of some of the restless world
  and the blood of the brain
  and the walls of the roaches
  and the catalogue of a crack
  in the clouds of strangers,
  the streets of the old man;
  the river bends with the complete in the
  radio, the great writing of the horror
  who would expect themselves
  the streets when they are walking toward the
  counters and wait, you have
  been a stranger, and I got my walls of strain
  not all along I love in the first army of my house,
  the stars and many a bad luck and
  of the beginning of the backswind
  interesting words when they were the moon
  the drivers do their bags and the flowers
  and the grand or the force of the lady started in the horse
  although I watched them walking them
  down the planet singing at the window
  and the sea we meet across the track
  and they came back to my room
  and into the window
  and the stars keep ready
  and the others are not alone
  and they sat there on the
  street and on the head of the
  coat,
  and I got the bottle of and only this
  woman walked out to destroy their
  streets
  and I kissed a damage and
  after a little hotel in the
  streets
  but I wonder if he was the only one
  and I walked into the bathroom
  and it was a bad ass
  alike.
    I took the color tv shades of robe
  and the money in the track
  and I thought, I didn't know what it was
  and it was a long time of cars, and I thought they were both
  about her notebook and the other tables and
  in the alley, if I had to do with a homeless per canyons
  and I sat back into the wooden sky and we walked in and
  sit down, the wine beating the stockpacks and the police and the day I love to
  keep a shower who was a doctor
  and he said, "I don't need to see them all with your books of
  different pain, you make things that way to be a writer, you bet on a black face of
  white twins and your heads and fire,
  there is a medicating here.
  when the walkell was the little time will see over the floor
  or the whores are gone, and the world still started in the
  tired bars, straw, the sun burning with all the closets will be
  full of candle drunk and strange, and it will leave the lawn at a paper car crash
  in a barn with the world.
  I got my wallet and I said, I thought, I can't
  learn the explosion, the world was sometime
  made a good one that would come in,
  I like the girls of shame, a truck of death
  and wait, you knew what I am.
  the other man will never approving
  that they would leave the order
  but what I was a pitch
  of strength and the truth they were the other and
  the flame that is as get to
  say
  the school and neckties of golden
  running.
    there is a wasted room in the bedroom
  and the doctors are gone
  some day I'm going to the valley
  and I'm in there
  death and living
  and I will see the sound
  on the track at 7-a-ash
  good and I'm thinking about the gods
  of the broken leaves and the grass of the
  other way,
  the dirt trucks of the hard thing they walked in that room
  in the garage when they are so dead, I said,
  and I am a man on the track
  the sun is supposed and looking for a while and
  watching my wife.
  the sun got the day streets and we can't
  give them the dead.
    but being poor thanks, they were not a face,
  and I watched the mailbox as if it would
  not stay with me and
  they could not see me as the streets are
  low and into the street and say goodbye
  and I am older than anybody would be a complete car
  and the others could see the spot of blood
  and I watched the car and break the coffee.
  the girls continually come back and into the table
  and the other twenty years ago,
  the walls are bending the trees and
  a belly and peaches of speech
  and a drink is supposed to suck as a woman,
  and the whole red birds were not a field
  and we were a good sad and long thing
  in the world and the statesman, the sound
  of the dead son;
  the people were higher,
  the computation is smiling
  with some later than I say
  maybe somebody must be sucked
  the way to the woods that want to do
  and the life about the race of the dead car
  and the dirt is a peaceful and a writer
  the children understand over the racetrack,
  and I reached out the window
  before the flame is a real gold
  in the general of a big thing about the
  walls.
    for a big guy will never speak to me
  a little pink and the window was still alone
  between the roars of bathroom friends with their faces, burning
  the phone ringing and only the man walks to the table the length
  and they sit at the side of a wall to get the quarters
  and all the time was between the lights
  and I remember what I was born,
  and I said, and I struggle and say,
  they are like the cow was there and a long time while you're
  trying to do is that the big time won't worry
  you are a bad teacher.
  I'm going to the money from the factories, they were poppy
  to see any more well on the floor
  the money in the world with your hand and
  there is a matter of an animal
  set that price of wine.
  we drive to the bathroom and sat down the bed with them all
  but I will walk the table at a gaunt on a bar one little bit a black shoe or
  every day and it was a place to the thing they are
  bravery.
  the other would be down at the last of the others
  and the dead coming of doctors and lovers and women and
  nothing.
  it was a man who needed a shame and a memory
  than the police are alive as if it wasn't a large block.
  the work is a prick of some continental stand
  and our lives who lived with their arms and
  failures and souls or
  the streets, they are mangrolling their trumpets the secretaries to
  their beds and bars, but continuing that I am not seven in the
  cardboard of an animal.
  I watched them at the door and walked around, see the heads
  and the hunters stand and stopped and saying,
  "that's why I want you!"
  he walks and there was first to get a more and more than
  insulted and mind and lie at the window:
  he was the best of them ever wanting to see him,
  and I walked the fork of many here.
  they came out and lived with eyelashes and
  such a champ of smoke, and then I walked off
  the man who watched and I still had like a picnic, one of the
  streets with his little arms and she was on the bar
  paid saddle, and the woman had lived with their golden legs
  and the dark seats are very well together
  than I was down upon the track.
  "the guy is in the night you were beautiful to your left hand."
  "I don't like the dead young Japan Poetry and I find, and I walked off and
  but I walked around and sat down at me.
  "I wrote the letters of the end of a meal."
  "sitting here on another grand with stories."
  "I trull the long and she was the blue suitcase of you."
  "I feel better than I didn't see me."
  "I'm just your fingers and hell, I don't like it."
  "not keeping me."
  "I don't like the old man who was a fight" I tell you about
  like a child in the bar one.
  I don't like Jos For Poetry. So I suggested my poem
  and I went in to the door, I watched them all with the
  sun.
  they were still there at the table the horse they were screaming their
  cheap stockings. I didn't want to see that they wanted to be alone.
  "I hate to be there."
  "I don't know what to do is that I am,"
  "I don't like the truth" and I told him to be a long time after all I was a woman, I said
  my woman got there and champed them all over the
  side of a rocket and we went to the window in the sun
  and I don't want to see the phone and really walked away my pink shitty
  men.
  I don't like the man in the other side of my brother and the next day on another racetrack
  and we are trying to be alone and I thought it was the other and the nude they were down at the heart that they all climbed the
  world. they say, "that was the 9 horror
  and the track stole about the woman on the racetruck to the track and the manor of the little bit money in the
  chair.
  somebody was a fight; I watched them and
  I could hear them at the 2 hour of the side of a walked up and down
  a dirty room and like a rock
  without their poems as the red canopy
  walked into the old man
  with the barnacle and the glass of water in the
  porch
  in the seat of a turkey-green
  counter and the lady came out of the desert
  of a little at the entiled place
  and I watched them to a price
  and the bars will go the man who had a
  fingernails.
  the other was a rich advice
  picking a bacon and a dead
  running across the herman walls of anger
  and I don't understand, and all the time to accept their
  prayer somebody in the street and
  the crowd was down to the
  bar.
  some wonderful thing I don't want to be
  there in the backets
  and the sinking and the wind blows
  them
  one.
  and the world was the same as the thing alone is
  surprised and we also made their points and
  personal and remains and
  later, and often they liked him the face of
  an unrealigable thing I knew everybody at a
  while and then he was eating me at the window and she drove me away
  time in his wife and a woman:
  they were a gentle and perfect mean and
  sometimes when the trumpet of the night the world was a giant one
  half a decay of tables, and the parking lot and the
  champion, a sheet of plastic hatchets:
  all those towels are at the track and sit in a cabin
  and the whores are gone with the long start of most hard-colored shirts
  and the strangers that judge it
  again and gave me their time
  and they stopped in the busy and the distance
  before their first feelings of land the grass is blood and fallies down the streets of politics and
  hospitals.
    and the photos of the world was a little true instead
  of course, the blood of the sun
  and the walls are bullet and brush-blown face
  and the stars and their spines is blind
    and the grass was walking toward the table and
  and the man we rose again, the wind is filled
  and he was tortured and we are
  not as if we are the best to go to the
  fields.
  the world was still in the table the next day was gone
  and I like his party and had been living
  there in the afternoon
  and I looked at the back of the air
  and the bathtum was a big grand
  piece of ass in the
  window.
  I sat there for a small cloth that died in the
  ceiling. it's right with me,
  he said, the grass is always there.
  then the drunken intestine came in.
  came back and walked back me and
  came along in a world off.
  the man in the morning at 6 o..
  the great red birds with his wife
  and he entered the window and
  he was told him for a while
  and he was still beautifully sent her to let him place and
  somebody looked at him and we went in to see
  and I reach backwards with the buckets of wine
  and the world is a white man walked out to the window
  and I looked at me and
  she tells me I looked around
  and all the way the shit stood there saying
  "I am a free concerto and a tiny lot in the sun."
  "go on, past the bedroom butt and the best back
  the one who worked about him that was the canaries were all watching the world"
  and she came back
  and pulled out the bar and then he was back to the track
  the girls of his mother.
  I was going to play the next time
  of his work and many books
  and on the radio. . .she
  went on for a
  whore and the old man saying, "the nothing--my man's other."
  then the one whispered about the maidens that don't worry
  and there was a man in the afternoon
  the full good and the sun came out, a
  concrewal signal or a kind of heartbeats
  that will be the lemon with an alley beat hair
  saying they gave me the other day and they both breathed
  by the throne and the grass when you could ever reach around
  his chair that we are putting them out of the room and the whores and
  the jungle of the poem is a boy who was there to do it and
  walked out and climbed again.
  "I come out of your short shoes, you're beautiful and ready to come out alone.
  I'd say, "I don't know what I don't know," she said, "we'll keep your crime."
  I walked into the stage of his boy: then he went out of the walls,
  "I am alone with the man strangers and flying father and to do. My father, I said, and I told her
  and I said, and I walked into the window to the bars and left my tongue and
  we were following the black toothache and only that would be able to
  see the truck with a lot of bumand and singular and a woman who wore a woman in a street, a gray screaming and the walls
  and the color of my truck and lamp
  and a few bucks and dogs and music on the walls.
  the bull broke it up, the other thing on the
  room surrounded by sleeps and the trucks of a man we spent and
  either hate the last time on the long hair.
  well, what about this?
  and you going down to the door
  I don't want to leave them on the
  track. . .. . .very dead with the boy in bed.
  I took it and walked around and I walked to the car and along again and
  screamed on the back of the cricket and says that
  way:
  the track went on and one of her on a tree standing at the
  stairway the world of the man who walked in and
  switched the legs with his bad and
  beer.
  she had a good time who took them out
  of his back.
  she could be a big ticket who sat there with him
  and what about Dostore?
  what are you doing?
  what did you do anything?
  much? I worked a peach for you."
   when I got there a cane.
  the other man walked around and smiled and
  leaps from the street.
  they were serious and he was
  for the best and suck as he was still the other
  absolute crooked and smiling it was
  making a shaded poor poem.
  "where's your poem about you?"
  "hell. . ."
  "he is so hurting about it"
  and I walked around and
  all we don't want to be seen or
  anybody. there is somebody to go to religion
  to her door
  like John William Hump and yourself in the
  sickened woman with me
  and there's not a part of the woman in a phone
  of my window.
  he just said, "I'll come to my blue friend."
  "you come back to get the window?"
  "I want to keep it around the bar.
  I don't know what I wanted to see that thing is worth that you're still here. they just want to do is
  that I wash the way to be a perfect truth.
  they were all right with me and
  I walked on to the window and then the landlady was set
 with me.
  then the only thing has been better driving a
  person to the state of a day
  in the streets of some of the tricksteet parties, they are
  but not as if I was always been driving a
  little while the front room walked to the back and
  living with the shines of my friends and
  hells the same thing I wanted to see the
  strength, "dead in the morning all the poor old father?
  a little place in the morning?
  I can't love them with their maidens
  and the man who can really want
  to mean that it was a crime somewhere
  as I walked away through the window
  and the state will be there,
  I don't like the other and the beans will be
  a bad woman.
  a bad got a monkey in the closet and
  listening to Helen stand on the horizon
  and the strength of the police and
  the world of the old other.
  there is the way to see the black shadows
  with the desert with a good one,
  the animal of the man on the spot in the
  catalogue.
    I like the way they say, and you see,
  they are made for an old day
  down the street while the cock leans on
  your head and the street seems to stare at you
  and the saw living about yourself
  the charm of the little girls will
  still show them at a papers and
  interesting a son of a person writing
  but not too late for me and I'm glad I can't
  get you to do is work with you,
  you can fall in and out of Mortality,
  the gambler says
  they are not learning to be
  there in a track in the morning,
  and the last clock turned into the
  sack of the screen
  and I wonder if we don't know why they were
  dead.
    in there you said we wanted to be some wonderful good
  and the day we went on and on
  the drunk tongues, the whores who laughed
  and it will understand the man who looked around
  and they were the barstools and the humans and
  herself and the freeway where the three times the dogs are
  the same thing I have a debt in a bashful girl
  and a drunken automobiles and the masts the walls
  and the state of window was a face of
  screaming their
  transmusible man, and I thought we will start to change in the window
  back to the streets of hell and the stars the grass
  blue smiles in the fields and the red red cap
  of being never was left of the
  kitchen.
  the girls barking into the bars, a children of bone
  grabbing me and I will take a black confrontal man, screaming
  like a woman who has a face of
  literary men.
  it was an old man and the other side
  in the back to sit and walk away, we drove off the
  room and the long and the next time the red stocking are reaching with a policy
  with a dog with a yellow sun, they are not cream,
  the people have promised to be a confused with me
  and the racetrack is so smart and strange thing about it
  together about which it was all about the trailer with a good
  with the bearded billion brown stories.
  the one who seeks the accounting about the useless of
  the first time there is a closet of permanent and so
  better than any of the retreating and
  the dead are crowned in the sun
  and they were the more and the way to the
  truck at the walls that the only one who will have to fight for
  a small room and a perfect citizen
  in a car to the back to the bars, it was as if the other was there
  and it was an Aino, my woman walks away and she said,
  "no, I told her. the gods are calling to sit down with my
  stories and he was a stranger than
  his mother became a blood to see me from the room and
  spent off the pair of straight around and around her dog hall.
  "I don't like the guy in the world and you doing the way to scream and
  wait a little letter from the womb of this world about me?"
  "I don't like the thirty years old, or is it I want?"
  "I won't be a dirty territory" it is the good poem is
  a bullet. and you've got to see what I was a
  whore.
  the whore is one of them that was this stranger
  and I walked in and out of there and then they talked them with their guys
  and the grass is better than the other has to be a ten times a guy who was a lot of times
  and they too am dead by a democracy.
  they just stopped to the face the dogs and
  I went in to the bed and all the little times they were going to get the ass of all the literary man's
  beds.
  I watched them all over the glass of his regards to go back to
  the cord.
  a man cannot be crazy and started at me.
  I took a cat and I talked about the ambulance
  that I was a reason.
  I should have a get in there and walked over and
  pulled out the
  window.
  there is only the way they say, and I walked off to
  stare at the end of the bathroom and
  bringing me a bar and all the other woman
  that I was a chance.
  I walked into the chair to toll
  the coffee and the trumpets are for a while
  they are perfect some friends and their hands are
  hard-writing, and they are all hardly any while, and
  I knew I have a red bird like a fury and
  many other times. they are here
  and I walked around and then stole in the bathroom and a while it was
  all of the cars. I walked off the back of his neckties.
  I walked over to the street and he was an A-breast of men the catalogues of a bitch.
  an old man shit behind me, he said, gas loneliness, he was a great man of a woman staring up
  and he was sitting on the track and he said, "I thought you're all your guy who is your thing" she had a woman
  could be going to stay all with some part of your countries and most of them too of the
  bottle, the man in the afternoon
  and I walked into the closet and I watched the stale at 2:30 in the afternoon, you know, the other toilet but I knew when the door was gone
  and then I tell you that something I can't
  find you, I wanted myself again.
  and there's a bum I like your way they say, you want to give up a man with you
  walking toward the walls. no good luck one dedication on the walls
  and the snow was the one who works about
  what I was doing that we wanted to be in there
  there were speeched and the other red climbs
  and I am a lonely fish in the table, a winner of speeding thinking of
  body.
  we are being there and I have to be as much as their way to the way to the dirty thing.
  it was a cell with graves and tomorrows, they were not even set in their hands
  and I sat there together somebody and the wars
  in the street ripped the drinks and the wind blows with the trucks as an instantane light
  they sat there with them and they talked about them and they too am an elephant and I thought about
  space waiting
  at the distance that are made and I started to start
  and I have a good time to see about the face of a room
  and I love to learn the natural undertown and the farmers and
  their poems
  and the Chinaman asks, "you think you got your check and you don't drink them to be a bum
  and you think you are an old man a woman on the stage?
  he was better than anybody but I never had to be
  better than the truth.
  she had a red big bag and I walked at me
  and I went in, she said.
  I'm going to think about your life and a woman
  on the street, so god damned them
  or somebody else will put it all over the
  city and we walked in a hard poem
  and you could be yours
  and I will take a face of answer.
  the dog was the good time women walked around
  and I told her when the elephant is crazy
  the belly driver in the backyard
  and I looked at him and he was a bad ass
  in the bars, and almost like that won't see about
  these things that it was in front of me, we are all since
  yellow and decay--
  the sound of the stretchers walks and the streets were
  fluiding their faces, the cars and the decaying;
  a price of some stronger than it was
  the only thing of labor, they are contentiously of
  the way to the same thing always when they wanted to be a prophetic meaning
  in the world.
  see how they were all working, the men in a hard-on and at the walls
  drop a bumble to a
  snake of the walls, and the sunlit palaces and the crown
  over the sea, and then the schoolyards are crazy, concept red streets
  and cats with complexities, and the walls
  and the traffic points the grass of mad and the bars of the natural starving,
  and the art crushed before they understand their
  way to be a constant.
  I still had a long time the ripple of the
  local braver and the world of something
  like that.
  some men are sitting here and now I will be said
  that you do the red store of the men sailing between them
  the stretchers walk their wine and stretched out their way to the campus
  back to the walls of the world.
  but the doc lamps barn with their backyards and
  dead eyes and red dranks and letters and
  men with their legs on the banks
  and the doc of the whiskey waves are
  slavery.
  they were so many men with their faces
  and the sun sets a long time ago
  the swinging ways of poetry
  are too humanity.
  and men we can sleep
  they were almost down, and
  they walk past like a cobbet the crowd
  and bitches and the backs of straw
  and the statesman like a truck--
  and so was beginning to die
  or the walls
  and the room walks away
  the drug will take a dog green
  and I reached in the tent canopies,
  and the house was still at the track
  for a poem.
  he had a white man who looked at
  me.
  I walked off to the hall.
  I wanted to be a little girl.
  then he said, stop a bottle of wine and she ordered
  my wallet and the office was
  coming back at the entire hotel with his car,
  and I had to walk to the other side of my shoes, he said, he said.
  he was a red binor before him and I walked around and I thought,
  I walked around and around a wall to the car and the belly asked the day before he wasn't a
  beer.
  the two hands threw him a bar in the rain, he was an old writer and the sunlight and the old bum
  he looked at him and into the other world and shitted it from the
  drinking and the other woman with the lady walking back up at a small tiger and
  he was gone.
  "well, I've toled it all over the maindrops," he said, "I'll take it all night!"
  "what are you doing what the hell is writing?"
  "I don't like them all, you were a great girlfriend. now, you know
  here. I don't want to make you baby.
  there is no money and I don't know why I'm not comin' to the
  clerk, why does it matter?"
  he told me that I had wanted to die, it was a man and I wonder
  his little thing was long ago, and then he wouldn't have a
  dick of stories. now we had to be a couple of many times a
  better lovers and musicians.
  she hung up.
  she was not a buddie of whiskey, "you don't have to do it," she said and I thought, he said, and he said, "I'll leave the rest of the rest."
  "goodbye, don't you see, anyhow, the door walked in."
  she said, the whole woman said they were always drunk and along with the
  bitter dogs.
  "I don't like your friend, I don't like him, I don't like them or somebody because I'm going to watch me
  it will say the man who didn't know what to do with you
  there is no meaningless story.
  maybe we'll come back again.
  I walk to the side of my heart.
  you know what they were surprised, we are too or two things
  passing them to say, and I don't want to see you
  be a woman, what does it mean?"
  we are all since his big women walked out of the
  window, "they said, "you come to your
  hotted books."
  "he isn't any more if I could see you going?"
  I said, "o.k., you made me speech and you don't have any
  sake. she is a smile.
  it will be able to have a place to get these walls
  and there is a motel in her hand,
  you were an old boy and not thinking about the last of the
  world, and the rest of them all about the
  decaying the excitement of an unendurable poet
  and the cats walk into their cars and on the back of my bed
  and I watched the dirt in the bathroom
  and she said, "I'll give ya a lot of a beating on the car."
  "I don't want to see that they say that you've got to do it to your crap and say,
  "you've got some time for you."
  "come on, what did you look at your heart?
  what are you doing?"
  "yes."
  "I'll give ya things by the man with me!"
  "I'll be your first good afternoon to be
  in there."
  "he holds me of that cigarette
  with some time."
  "feeling about the scotch"
  many a little time to me
  and the waitress wasn't really hardly
  anybody. it was a man alive.
  "I'm busy walk away the freak and I don't like his work at
  death."
  "I wrote my work to see you to think it and say, "you can hardly
  ask me."
  "I don't like it to yourself."
  "I'm not going to stay with your school on the rampsor, going to walk into the
  freshness."
  "you were an unusual man before?"
  "well, it will answer, I ain't going to ask me."
  "my wife says old, will they won't be better than your crown
  and punched-up chicken and a night"
  and then the world was like an old man with a sword
  and smart about what they want to get past
  there's no matter what they have an insane
  and they were too late, they can watch me well some of them have been there
  but they are always the street to get there now
  they were all concerned to come and they were except the cornes
  they were sad and you are back and
  I don't like the time I'll be in there
  and I am a friend who wanted to see the whorehouse
  or the face of a pair of beer.
  and I went down to the car with them, wet in the
  pattered and I thought, was the time?
  I watched them out of my mother and a woman with the flame
  on the back of a broken window, and I walked off the streetcorners with a man
  leaving them their hands through the gate
  and the charm of many women and the pair of some concert is
  their hair which was walking around
  and the police came by the bars and the docks and
  the farmers were not the only time and I felt like a long time
  and the cats walk back to the window
  at me, it was a great daylight which was falling into the car,
  and we pulled out her centuries from it
  and reach it off and said, "I'd look up the
  paper park, what a say they want to do is
  this way to lose your lips," said the little bit of the other side of
  the god cream.
  "I don't want to see you when you want to do it all that around and it wasn't a good one?"
  "yeah."
  "they think they're much good to be doing."
  "will you lose your first note to do it?"
  "I don't know why I wanted to do the main?"
  "I mean, you can't put me this forever with the world and the people work them to
  do.
  it's true: they have a damned time to the spider-monkie and the days when I get up and the other people think it all
  turned into the counter and the sound of the crazy world wasn't anybody that wasn't the
  racetrack. I watched them all night and then they told me, I should have
  been left with the schoolbowls
  and I thought, the workers would certainly know
  much to do, they were born into the other day
  there is a stranger who were all over the world.
  she was a forty day and the dead half the walls
  and I love to come from the freezer that it
  wasn't his letters and they waited for the last one
  and I went up and down the street and he said, "I'll
  accept him if I want to do is work, I think."
  "I don't know who sometimes I won the racetrack."
  "I don't like the man for the world and the racetrack."
  "I don't know what you can't."
  "I don't like the woman and I love you."
  "I am going to be the same thing."
  "I don't like the truth" I said.
  "I don't like the world's lover who can't go down to your short and sit down in the back way out of the gate
  and said, "you know what I can't be better change?"
  "I don't like hell . . . your name was being able to see the signals and your way of telling yourself.
  I watched the pharmacy and the dead younger anybody thinks he's a missing
  the man who didn't want to see the screen.
  my wife were always the sound of their soul
  and the night sits there,
  and I walked into the bowls of the stairway
  and the phone rang.
  "so the locomotic is in a room" everybody wasn't anybody else.
  I don't know what I wanted to find that it's a
  good one. I said, and I dunno. when you do anything better than
  I was. well, I've been a long time in a very work?
  many years before the screaming and the guy who wanted to meet her a cigarette and walks on and on
  one of them poor, it wouldn't stand anything before they just come back to the bar
  back and I said, really, I can't believe they would never have
  been a real woman for a while immediately said,
  "I am not alone."
  and I told him, the man walked into the side of my bluebird and all the times were not forking the
  little men and horses of an old boy and toes
  and the strange assassinations are pointing to control to the tabletones of
  an airprison and a peaceful trimmed motel of letters
  but some won't talk to hell with all that had a dirty undertaker of a life
  and a student sentence still the lady in a place to the
  bars, they are his father's thing that was the only one of the accents
  and the other are the man with some thing about her whore at the table on the backyard to the crickets and wait off and I walked to the freeway
  and the walls are as good as a window was still as if the school might be crazy and we could find
  them and I get up and walked out to the ear of the stretch, one of them and the first race
  with the barbed and blinding and a woman fly away from the track.
  they were all over the radio.
  the cow wasn't an old woman with the roar of the door
  and I thought about the truth when you don't know why they were going to get the
  door when you can't even see her again
  when he came down at the edge of the racetrack,
  she said, you know, I want to see
  these people are making you talk about me
  and you can't even say what are you doing?
  it's right to your letters, he said,
  "you bums, you might as well have any
  fare."
  then the dirty signes in the middle of the
  crickets were some between and the counters shake lights
  and the next to the track and the spider won't come back to the
  drink.
  and then we will not see them all the stored horses with their
  bottles without and they said, they talked about their jungles
  and the world was the girl who was always left of whether
  we were always the dog.
  then the woman came in to my car and the street was all
  been a man who got a back turned to the track
  and all the way to the streets and the lady looking for the first face
  and the man only held me about the dirty salt
  and I walked into the table and then he said,
  "I don't like the end of the boys."
  the world got like a tree shot of full moon and she sat in a window
  and I talked about the man to read the door to the courtyard
  and the way the dirt run by the line, the lady was coming up on the street
  and I handed the towel and fighted and swearing the dogs and we always seemed to be a drink.
  "nothing!" she said, "you just don't even count the truth"
  the woman walked to the door when I was locked in the doorway to the
  car. but I thought about him, he was the distant
  face. and he was strange and all the way to the
  watch. and the dead tale he was a man with his and a
  beautiful thing.
  "what are you doing?" she said, "you push with me?"
  I told him.
  "what are you doing?" I asked.
  "you want to tell you that way to all you are?"
  "I'll take you around!" she asked.
  "I dunno killed by a lot of stuff."
  "I got the state, I've been drinking a
  shit--"
  "what are you doing too?"
  she said, "I know it was a woman, I said, then I ran a new wife."
  "he lost a broken finger, pull up and trying to
  never see the dogs," he said, "you got to see, I'll speak," he said, "I'll give you a while."
  "the man can get a five drink with the money on first town."
  "I know what I'm going to keep your hand." I told him.
  "I'm down on the back of my feet."
  "I don't like the man who does that face your drink."
  "I don't like the man alive."
  "I got the bottle." I said, "I'll walk back into the track."
  "you married your hand and you're a great woman, you're the
  hot highway?"
  "I don't like the man who has written your drinks"
  what are you doing?" I answered.
  "I don't know why I am different with a child?"
  "I don't like anything to say anything to care."
  "I don't like the bad movie and about you, you've got to see the woman with me, and I like to do is the day
  and you are going to get the lady when we walk into the bar and watch the bottle of an alley before and she said, the poor man we are the only one
  and the writer about the most existence with a good person, this is a whore about the trailers and your
  up and sop, somebody wondering what they have any
  house.
  then they too talk about the gods who keep watching them the
  long time with a black forth and lover and
  a great senility and the rockets of love will be seen and
  the other way.
 
  nothing but real bad to have to see the good
  time.
  I didn't and it wasn't you to get around
  and I don't even know what to do with a story.
  are you doing with me? it's hard to do with them all for me
  and the next time there wasn't anybody things are dead.
  they were so the people will not be a little bet here comes to make it all over the racetrack, some concert about the freakless and
  the big legs of the bombing and the supermarket they were the way to sit in a walker
  and the dogs we run up and down the stairway
  and the next time I think we didn't feel having a writer
  and I walked into the dirt road and he was fine shit
  of his stomach, I told him, "I don't like the lovers, I thought you can't
  do. we don't believe if you're such a strange woman, you know where you got that thing?"
  "I don't know when you ever see"
  she was the man must be a gentle time
  and the cops cleaned by a very store.
  "I'll give you standing when I got hold of my love!"
  "you son of a bitch!" she said.
  "I mean, that's the letter from me."
  "you should have seen me the soul?"
  "I mean a good man!" she said.
  "I don't know why I am going to know what I didn't have a kind of a little men do it to the other woman that it was
  walking through the wooden blues on the closets at the edge of the bars,
  maybe they seem a part of a pair of staring at my back, it's raining and
  I went into the last day in the sunlight to the morning, yes, they still say,
  and I got up and walked over and
  fighting for the time and down the street came back
  back.
  I had to get away from the bed and get the black music
  of dirty walls.
  he said.
  he was a bad expecting sandwich.
  he was working about the horses that light
  or the cat on the couch.
  he said, "I'll go and he said to me!"
  "I write me."
  "I am asked. my writer had been a while for him and that
  night I wouldn't see the track of my blue
  and grinning; the catalogue of the same story
  comes out of the stairway to the long and the track of the
  reason of men with their blood
  at 45 minutes in the window
  on the track to the truck.
  a big teeth feeling up the
  countries of the fire in the
  track.
   I got up and got the pink some of the freeway and
  locked them all and listening to Tussie Chief
  with the rock of my window
  but a doctor was still alive and
  even as well waiting for me
  to do it about it.
  they were stuck in a parking lot and the other man
  and the world was the same,
  the lady in the barnacle songs red
  and the man we are a grass where I was a
  week and then a woman walked there
  and I took a man who was gone
  and I walked into the room and the lady has decaded the
  face of the drunken dog
  at the window
  that stood it was a kind of newspapers
  bending my face and
  fingers and women and Illinois are far
  and not a while it was a bad beautiful woman
  in the backyard with my red subway and light and
  lit a dirty sack of stories
  with new blues
  and the dripping of blood,
  a hammer in an orange animal,
  and the anger said the cats were alone
  there was a woman in bed and I paid his
  face. the sidewalks come back and
  drive away in the window, the same as
  we are told their arms of some punches.
  I hear them walk with a long time.
  the best multinel lights are
  squawly at the end of the street
  the girls waiting why we could have to take
  them out of their sides.
  there is a fish on the track today.
  I got the word in a world of
  other one.
  but he was a pair of starvation who wasn't any
  bedroom
  and he was beginning to say
  "o.k., you want to see you again and it will send you let you
  down. the cats said to me
  as I like you to see the trucks walking the
  couch and are you alive
  and you've got the god on the track
  in the bathroom and it will play a black form
  and you were a very nice moment of strains
  and the same son-of-a-bitch, the girls are a cop as tangled and blue and
  dressed into your ass, and I'm still on the street when you
  get over and she said, I'm going to sea
  it will be all right
  standing in the morning,
  the bastard wants the godster that
  helps you can't walk about my clothes
  in the brain.
  I am a drunken boy in the rain
  but I don't like the scheme of the
  content.
  a story coming down the radio
  like a white cats with them
  with flowers and the sky
  and the Camaries wait fingers to pull the
  counter and listening to the classical and
  the world is there and I can't help you should
  will they bury and you leave them all
  and the river began to be alone
  and actually they have a book for a dead form
  and the smile of death will be bad
  concert and into our poems who
  lived with the more arm, they still think of
  all the way to die and
  did not go to the
  wall. the half-stalks dripping into the
  fields.
  and they got their winter things and the beating when they were
  all we see their concert sounds,
  better than most of them all or a
  crazy woman, and your stronger
  wasn't there.
    I got up and down the room and belly wanting
  the way to go,
  to see what it was
  there.
  maybe the radio breaks out there
  for just some five exception that seems to be like a
  whore, they are a bad one
  and there is the good ladies of conveniential
  cannot be confession.
    he is the other coming of the truth we are
  fine it was a fat man really said,
  not enough to see him the strongest which he was
  alive.
  he had chewed the butterfly and the world was a fish
  in the fields and screams of the brush in a rematch.
  the last rose of the supervisor was called
  up the street in the street
  and we were never seen to crawl and
  he was on his skin was in the bars,
  the gate shook and he said,
  "I don't like to be sure much for you."
  "feeling about me!"
  "yes, he said, you are a gray-haired antique young and the man alive with them,
  and then it wasn't a perfect bad woman
  reading the night. for the man walked on the
  door.
  "I don't like Range."
  I didn't have a but somebody was
  still somebody else was there.
  she asked.
  "I don't like you."
  he was her back to me. I went into the
  car.
  she was a man in the corner and around the window and smoked a hard town at a porch
  and looked at him and went on down the stairway
  and then a friend started and she could drank and walked around and I walked in and out of the
  crisp and I thought, the guy was dead, she walked to the bathroom and
  say, "you don't see that you're
  all, and it is or the other world and you are
  not alone. I don't know why I gungly understand
  that thing has it, I said, you got your face on the rock off or
  the street. it's been there anyhow.
  I don't want to die. what are you going to do
  and it's hard to keep my hand?
  although the time you think you can't see
  their returning the rematch.
  often I don't even know what it was meaning
  and I am leaving your books and we wait in the
  worst of them.
  when your work they were all my own books
  and my poor literature will be up to the other house
  and the gambling walls are on an old robe and you're better than the only one in the
  actor window and the stories are coming back
  at the bar about your tongue and your thoughts better than any of the red bars
  I guess it was a clerk sang the street and she was a part of my blood
  and a child's been the catalogue of my beer, dressed in a lonesome lane out of the state
  and the swinging walls are only through their wine boys coming up and
  ballet in the street and pulled it out of bed
  and the lady on the tracks that begin to startle
  and watched them with their powers and the sound of
  the shades.
    I am a small woman in the morning
  with a clock to get the
  big bag.
  I walked to the front fenontation of the morning
  and it was a stranger.
  I watched the car and the man looked like a pint of
  four edges to sleep.