THE NEW YORK SCHOOL
Fist me! Cried Frank O'Hara and I did, shoved my own
bio so far up there he saw stars, fuckers that is, like
the next generation who only wanted blowjobs in the
off hours while printing facsimiles of their assholes on
mimeo. There is one true god, and he is dead and his
name is not pounding into and into…yes Butterick,
there is a revisionist inside me bc you too, are a twat.
Name dropping swill of a…your portrait gives me
thought, like a cock hanging below the knees, even.
Command preparation H. We are, after all, elitist
brick upon brick upon what once was two scenes
but now conflated. But as all tricks, it was heartless
and demanded more of my time and energy than was necessary ...