Henry Hankovitch, con guítar, <br />did a short Zen pray, <br />on his tatami in a relaxed lotos <br />fixin his mind on nuffin, rose-blue breasts, <br />and gave his parnel one French kiss; <br />enslaving himself he withdrew from his blue <br /> <br />Florentine leather case an Egyptian black <br />& flickt a zippo. <br />Henry & Phoebe happy as cockroaches <br />in the world-kitchen woofed, with all away. <br />The International flame, like despair, rose <br />or like the foolish Paks or Sudanese <br /> <br />Henry Hankovitch, con guítar, <br />did a praying mantis pray <br />who even more obviously than the increasingly fanatical Americans <br />cannot govern themselves. Swedes don't exist, <br />Scandanavians in general do not exist, <br />take it from there.<br /><br />John Berryman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dream-song-31-henry-hankovitch-con-gu-iacute-tar/
