On 69th and 3rd:
The Hudson looks like smoke building under transit
a dwindling stream seeming obscene.
All he wants to do is be Frankenstein.
Sparrow don’t fly away in arm’s reach
set sail feather-wail floating finger flied away
in to the ashes of a sun. not worth hiding from
Bhikkhu blowing Bacchus blues
down dreary drunk (en) avenues
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