The smudged poem on the back of a page of notes:
Her molten
breast holds no solid thing
Graven
in(?) which the name Plato or Brahms
Or
Lincoln –
Might
survive –
Undefeatable(?)
happiness(?)
A
talisman(?) ??? show that on this tiny planet
Amid great
Suns and Nebulae
There was a
strange condition(?) of matter
An ????????
chemical cowardice(?)
Possible …
For an instant in infinite time –
Here was
life.
The paragraph on the back of a test:
Amy Sheissewetter wouldn’t say
have said shit if she had a mouth full; Gus, her spouse, was a rabid
anti-semite, who couldn’t hit a bull in the ass with a banjo; and Rex
Sheissewetter, when he wasn’t trying to light farts in the men’s rooms boy’s
lavatory of P.S. 43, divided his time about equally between building model
airplanes and masturbating. The
Sheissewetter’s could afford to be indifferent about atomic warfare
And the poem on its own piece of paper in the middle of that test:
Matter can
neither be created nor destroyed.
Energy can
neither be created nor destroyed.
Matter is
energy.
Energy is
matter.
There we
begin our dismal story,
When Man
lay aside his crucifix
for the new Holy Trinity:
Matter,
Energy,
and Time;
When mass
suicide was made possible –
The Grand
Ideal, Oblivion,
To be
shared by all,
No longer
to be inhibited
By the
faint of heart
Nor by the
minority will to live.
Man, thou
art but dust:
To dust
return.
And wonder
not what followed
For no
living thing remains on Earth;
Not a bird
bursts its breast with melody.
Nor are
there forests, nor shy forest creatures
