Classic Poem

a
mong crum
bling people(a
long ruined streets
hither and)softly

thither between (tumb
ling)
houses (as
the kno

wing spirit prowls, its
nose winces
before a dissonance of

Rish and Foses)
until
(finding one's self
at some distance from the
crooked town)a

harbour fools the sea(
while
emanating the triple
starred

Hotel du Golf...that notable structure
or ideal edifice...situated or established
...far from the noise of waters
)one's

eye perceives
(as the ego approaches)
painfully sterilized contours;
within

which
" ladies&gentlemen "
— under

glass —
are:
asking.

?each
oth?
er

rub,
!berq;