2 5 8
Scarlatti spurts his wit across my brain, so too does Figaro: so much for art after the centuries yes who had for all their pains above all pain
& who brought to their work a broken heart but not as bad as Schubert's: that went beyond the possible : that was like a man dragged by his balls, singing aloud 'Oh yes' while to his anguisht glance the architecture differs: he's getting on, the tops of buildings change, like a mad dance, the Piazza Navona recovers its calm after he went through, the fountain went on splashing, all was the same after his agony , abandoned cats had what to say to y ou, lovers performed their glory
& its shame:
Henry put his foot down : free.