moth-eaten already
along with 7,000 books
you-be-damned air
moth-eaten already
oblivion waits
as a squirrel holds a nut
rag mats and bedroom slops
this was Flaxman
a crawling reverence for money
nasty, ladylike tea shop
lived to be 1000
illuminated nothing
would not sit down
cake-scented air
far more
with cold haste
buffalo’s were singing
Flaxman was there
‘its no use’
