Poetaster Hornbook: Nü-Gladness

for years (my entire life) I've been obsessed w/ this shiny new chrome future for me, writing is an act of vandalism against the state poets are political assassins; slayers of tradition, of cultural values every letter a drop of bureaucracy's lifeblood stained on the page I want to see mad men will themselves into fortune, fame, and power because it reminds me of freedom I want to hear tales of freedom to see it reinacted in psychodrama, that I might believe myself a free man unabused after a decade of pondering pedantic paranoias, speak bilious,        blather billingsgate...    spit; shadow as partner in the footage, 24 feet per second in madness I trust for shelter, cloister: neutercane rapes seashore by moonbeam, full bright     slow white sleeping sickness brought by mosquito bite follow east line to the western             nile     brain, swelling     shelling out one dollar two dollar three, oh fuckit here's twelve     keep the bullshit she had my blood in a vial and would taste it from time to time long gone (what have we left behind?) our memory,     our song