Classic Poem

they they shoot the breeze they chew the rag the fat.
they plight their troth & what is that.
they are all alike they are going home now nothing changes.

why here they come again no there they go.
O lord here they come unsure enough they come their merry way as if as if as if all the old boarding houses & comic strips were to tip over dumping out all the chambers of deputies all the committees of the whole all the more perfect unions all the prisoners of war & peace the daze of the weak.
they are all alike the shadow cabinets the bare refugees deaf as doornails now to all the great languages & forbidden all the great meals on O my lowercase lord religious grounds.
now the mouths of the months became mounds.
the rows of empties grow & there they go now mercy me.

no here they come they come to town so God be with you i.e. goodbye.
all's well that ends.
commercial travellers gay deceivers wholesale fugitives punch press operators shop stewards rubber drummers sandwich men stick men titmen deacons mouthpieces tycoons they are all alike.

the foot-long hot-dog laughs are all alike the manholes are all alike the bumpers on the second-hand hearses are all alike & all busy as the typical one-eared doorman at the average row of teeth graveyard.

they are talking turkey with their forlorn hands.
forlorn.
the weekend smacks its lips for them.

they mail the mail they nail the nail.
women waxing wood.

as they call shots they hear the heart of earth methodically applauding as though on a guaranteed annual salary of salt.
of bloods & greens the grand ovation stands.
they are going going gone on home now the runners up the royal families the chambermaids the switchboards of snakes the veterans of foreign worn pieces the ministry of ink the department of tape ta ta.

no O lord here it itself comes now the bureau of bureaucracy so God be with you sisters of emptiness brethren of breath cousins of silence children of therapy clan of abandon wives of division family of disconnectedness.

& the home-long aunts as though on a front porch together swinging the aunt of party the aunt of church the aunt of enterprise the orphans of orphans.

Hallmark is our novel Time our song.
have forgotten the first three words of Rock of Ages.

anvil-shaped the chorus of wounds motors along among the waters & greys of the five-o'clock sky the sky of becoming becoming.
horses' shoulders are our novels the knees of deer our song the organ tune of Quaker cartons cleft for me.

we weep the more because we weep in rain.

stars equal pills.
they have destiny without character.
the sky at motley midnight is busy with disputed symbols.
like a felon's palm.
this line see is life this line is love.
you are here.
the interstates are our cathedrals.

but they they have banks under their eyes & branches of plasma under their blank nails that grow as slow as courage.
their hair is long words.

it is better to have loved & lost.

now now your head is a dead tongue Lord O John James Charles George Thomas Robert Edward & homeless Michael lover of heights.
hexameter is six feet in the grave they are all alike & nothing changes.
on the eighth day of a new year their same faces pass the B-52 news like a series of teeth.
gone thrones hard cash & symbol toys on the jaundiced chain of earth-tolled time.

another bomber.
told told told told told told told told told told told told.
another bomber at the bottom of another lake.