i walk through this city
with a presentiment of accident
glossed over in florid detail
by sombre scribes sculpting with cement

but here and again
it is a specious argument
over the length of rope
when upon the edge of fields fetid excrement
and other putrid human insolences
their cleanliness contests the price of soap

its blanket doesnt cover the feet of my city
the crows in a murder exclaim oh what a pity