A man like snow in Paris beautiful machine
Riding into the stars
A world of Michaels
You can blow it like glass I have never seen

The rip-roaring songs of the ladies
Make gold coins
There of a form of a dead horse
In the snow of Indiana
The sun is going down
The sun is going down

Hunter Helen Da Vita Tribute! Ignite
In Her Honor the contents of four
Medium sized ashcans. Throw in nickels as many
As possible into the flames
                                      all the while

I greeted you like a long lost palm tree
Palm tree you were and are my labor

The Home of the Ten Most Wanted Men
Skillets us. I can find no formality
Except for nurses peeking over the clouds
And answering in music to my malady “Red Cloud”

         Terrific forces under the
Earth pushed up.
All the force I lifted as the light part

Who will write of the mortality
O mortal of the chemical musician?
Eating a prohibited Danish
The old lady in the bakery saying “I’ll eat
Some of those today”
Policeman of the ziphyr! Queen Mab rod!
[Space for This Machine
Is Donated]