when empty streets talk skyscrapers walk
when the bootstraps snap and the horse-wings flap
when the black harp sings and the holy ghost belches
we’ll know the never never as a shabby crazy place
with sluggish skies
you’re drama, a harmony of meta-human sadness
in which we dream one to another
awaken with private sensations
my dead jackasses lighter than a grain of sand
and so much heavier than the ruins of athens,
the agony
the careless droning bells and the powdered gulps of clay
the diamond birds and buttered moonbeams
the slings and silver turns mad clean like salt and rubber bright
ply the cold blue light
all the freaks reach out and watch their hands shatter
monsters arrive and horses whinny
some crusade, the entropy
lead nowhere carry no tune
There is no use there is no use at all in smell, in taste, in teeth, in toast, in anything, there is no use at all and the respect is mutual. (Gertrude Stein)