I

We, the loud women

We, the sham'd women;

Leaning together

Headpiece dripping it's frown, alas!

His hollow voice, as

We howl in unison, crass-

Frail and meaningless

The wind has gathered amass!

Foot falling over broken glass

Guzzles wine in the cellar

Shape without form, struck without armour,

Unforgiving force, a gesture in commotion;

His eyes have crossed

Our direct eyes bring a dead mans freedom

Remember him—once was tall—now lost

Violent prowling, but only

As him; hollow man

Stuffed belly man

Tall man

II

Tongues I dare not meet in dreams

In sleep's dreaming kingdom

Never to appear:

Her! Her eyes are

Reflected on the broken column

Greek to the man swinging

Our voices are

In the wind, singing

More distant and more solemn

To cradle his fading star.

Let me be no nearer

Death's dream clear

Man tears, will wear

With deliberate guise

Rat's toe, dead-like bird taking place of slave

We women lie in field

Behaving as teal tears behave

She, the wind, the disappearer—

Clandestine meeting

In our, twilight field

III

This is dead land

This is cactus land

Here- shadows of stone images

Raised here we receive

The supplication of created man's hand

Under jaded, faded kingdom.

Like his untimely fall

Into death's bottomless pit

Woke in field

At the hour he looks at sky, we are

Trembling with hopelessness

Fissured tongue grab at his tonsils

Forms broken stonehenge to stones

IV

The mouths are not here

There are no words here

In the valley of dead men and charred kings

In this bottomless chasm

Through this broken jaw of a child

His (and I), the meeting places where

He groped women, us women together

Roped mighty women,

unfinished creations

Immeasurable, on top the kingdom of timid deterioration man

Lipless, unless:

His eyes will repair

As the parable speaks to his charred

Multiplicity; his mush, his self string

he is left for death's twilight field

His hope was only

Of lifeless tendons.

V

Here we go round the hole in ground,

Hole in ground, hole in ground

Here we go round a sulphuric bath

At five o'clock in the morning

Between the idea

And the reality

Between the motion

The cruelty

Falls in the Tallman

For Thine in lone self takes refuge

Between the conception

And the creation

Between his begin, his end

Women respond to Tallman

Trips into sulphuric bath

Life is very long

Between beginnings

Quickening

And spasms, convulsions

Between endings

Between conception to depth

Between the drama of moral history

And the descent

Falling, the Shadow

For Thine in lone self takes refuge

For Thine is the,

For Twitch is the,

For his end is the,

This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends

Not with a he; with that was she, and them; unanimous woman-

Tall man tumbled in formless realm,

Not with a bang, but a whimper

My Mama hides all day

     alone in her room.

The walls are painted yellow

     by cigarette fumes.

She says, "I need a refill. My bottle is empty."

Yesterday there were twenty.

My Mama is a bird

     that no longer sings.

My Mama is a butterfly

     that has lost it's wings.

Mama, Mama, where did you go?

Somewhere I will never know.