"america i've given you all and now i'm nothing.
america two dollars and twenty-seven cents january 17, 1956.
i can't stand my own mind.
go fuck yourself with your atom bomb
i don't feel good don't bother me.
i won't write my poem till i'm in my right mind.
america when will you be angelic?
when will you take off your clothes?
when will you look at yourself through the grave?
when will you be worthy of your million trotskyites?
america why are your libraries full of tears?
america when will you send your eggs to india?
i'm sick of your insane demands.
when can i go into the supermarket and buy what i need with my good looks?
america after all it is you and i who are perfect not the next world.
your machinery is too much for me.
you made me want to be a saint.
there must be some other way to settle this argument.
