the young poet knew the Ivan the city
boy thought he could **** for a living;
eating dirt the children leave talking  
perfectly in their sleep but keep painting  
walking in a trance w/ voices like stars
traipsing in yellow; writing novels sure
america will love; goddess' word *****
blind three sons cool as Christian stone;  
he doesn't care if she's broken waiting  
to be filled w/ holy beauty to thee I pray
but the *****'s big **** broke the f*n bed