hang out the ferrous wirennunhinge the mother nnand leave for electric light nna candle to goad the meatnninnards of a weary wombnnthe loss keeps bleedingnnthe milk runs warm and mild upon the pavementnnand I can see the lightnna pinprick gleaming in all that you recognizennwhere consciousness resignsnna man is draped across a balustrade of spinennhe walks his fingers around your collar so maligned nnhe takes no prisoners that can hardly containnnhis self-devotion as his sorrow starts to fade awaynnnna glee man sneers at usnnhis voice confession nnin stalls that you emphasize nnare holy latrines nnand I can see the lightnna pinpoint fleeting nnfrom all the reasons why you pass out needing nna man is saved nna man is made to walk the line nnbetween the fore and aft nnthat spans the length of timennhe was a singer but could hardly entertainnnhis mixed emotion was his solemn saving grace