Honey Mysterious
I, like honey—jaded, marred, unscrupulous, dejected, circumspect, devoured—do something
But I do not
Know the precise thing having despaired of
A harem dancing devoid of spirit, hope, I
Like honey.
Always the sex, which Whitman said, speaking of valves like
An old man consumed lecher,
Longing strong for performance beyond
His rattling wheelchair. Send me 12 or 14 kind
Girls then Happiness shall consume my
Socks and boots and shoes
Not
Like the forlorn drugged Soho poets prancing, shouting their goofy rhymes on rooftops in
Soho.
Again the redundant sun at 6 a.m.,
Lesser than moon I
Having solved like Sherlock
Holmes the very mystery.