When he enters the town
The valley of his youth is going slowly bald
he was a beautiful thief in the night
Joined to his guilt by bonds of matrimony
Whose guts garland the dogs of Troy / Not Patroclus'
but we must feel there is something amiss
(BandAid Medical 422.02)
The arrival of the monsoon―
My head spins the audacity of coming so close to the Gods!
There once was a man who lived in a house
money put aside for money will money into money
These curtains, how they fluttered like wings.