12 (from A Coney Island Of The Mind)
by Lawrence Ferlinghetti
'One of those paintings that would not die'
its warring image
once conceived
would not leave
the leaded ground
no matter how many times
he hounded it
into oblivion
Painting over it did no good
It kept on coming through
the wood and canvas
and as it came it cried at him
a terrible bedtime song
wherein each bed a grave
mined with unearthly alarmclocks
hollered horribly
for lovers and sleepers
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