That was not all they spoke of her
in rippling recesses of anarchy...
Your heart is
beating...
I am from vinyards
Of red, white and pink...
May the azure that lingers
around thine eyes be as blue...
An old man making a speech,
a sad crowd standing up and clapping...
You're moving in and you're moving
your religion with you. Our house...
Miss King is fat
with flesh, flesh...
Let us not die peacefully.
Let us not leave...
Time is slipping from
my hands, such that...