The gas line is leaking
The bird is out of the
Cage, the skyline is dotted with vultures
Benny got off the stuff and Betty got a job
As a waitress
The chimney sweep was quite delicate and
Giggled up through the soot
I walked miles through the city and saw
Nothing as a giant claw ate at my
Stomach and the inside of my head felt
Airy as if I were about to go mad
It's not so much that nothing means
Anything but more that it keeps meaning
Nothing
There's no release, just gurus and self-
Appointed gods and hucksters, stupid
Intellectuals
The more people say, the less there is
To say
Even the best books are dry sawdust to
The brain
I watch the boxing matches and take
Notes on futility
The gate springs open again
And there are the beautiful silks riding
Against the sky
Such a sadness: everything trying
To break through into blossom
Everyday should be a miracle instead
Of a machination