HEAVEN HAS A GESTATION
PERIOD ALL ITS OWN
Kerchiefs of the sky are beckoning to me, floating down
a Bowery lane. The old tenements here are sparse with
their happiness, even as they try now to be giddy. The
New Museum has a store in its front - first things first
when you get to the moon. Run that air again.
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Reproductions and pins and pencils. Art books galore -
probably any of that silly matter that never matters.
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