I'm watching
them churn the last milk they'll ever get from
me.
Their waiting for me to die.
Their going to make buttons out of my
bones
Where are my brothers and sisters.
That tall monk there, loading my uncle
He has a new cap
And that idiot student of his
I've never seen that muffler before
Poor uncle he lets them load him in
How said he is, how tired
I wonder what they'll do with his bones
And that beautiful tail
How many shoe laces will they make of
that.
Poem by Gregory Corso
© 1980, music
Bruce Kushnick
