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’