A solemn sweet, wine soaked, and fermenty fecund, down by the riverside, wearing a bun, a cumberbund, a cinnamon roll, rolled off of a bum,
A hobo in Hoboken, or a grizzly dip shit kick shit, of a hobo in Hoboken. Bumming off a nun, the Catholics, a minority, gone, solo as a hobo, Jews outnumbering Catholics, 50505050 to one; 6666 60606 6660606060 to one…
A night so silent conspiracy rolls in; a night so silent, immigrant baby sleep like a baby, no chagrin; a current so current, a tide washed with Tide, before phosphates ironically, castigated, into sin, and stuff,
“Tides swift and ample, well-loved by me, toward sundown,”
That’s Walt Witty Man speaking. Keep that in mind.
Spam of Human Affection 
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