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the book Today! -Moment of inner freedom when the mind is open & the infinite universe revealed & the soul is left to wander dazed & confus'd searching here & there for teachers & friends.
Moment of Freedom as the prisoner blinks in the sun like a mole from his hole a child's 1st trip away from home That moment of Freedom
LAmerica
Cold treatment of our empress
LAmerica
The Transient Universe
LAmerica
Instant communion and
communication
lamerica
emeralds in glass
lamerica
searchlights at twi-light
lamerica
stoned streets in the pale dawn
lamerica
robed in exile
lamerica
swift beat of a proud heart
lamerica
eyes like twenty
lamerica
swift dream
lamerica
frozen heart
lamerica
soldiers doom
lamerica
clouds & struggles
lamerica
Nighthawk
doomed from the start
lamerica
"That's how I met her,
lamerica
lonely & frozen
lamerica
right from the start"
Then stop.
Go.
The wilderness between.
Go round the march.
he enters stage:
Blood boots. Killer storm.
Fool's gold. God in a heaven.
Where is she?
Have you seen her?
Has anyone seen this girl?
snap shot (projected)
She's my sister.
Ladies & gentlemen:
please attend carefully to these words & events
It's your last chance, our last hope.
In this womb or tomb, we're free of the
swarming streets.
The black fever which rages is safely
out those doors
My friends & I come from
Far Arden w/ dances. &
new music
Everywhere followers accure
to our procession.
Tales of Kings, gods, warriors
and lovers dangled like
jewels for your careless pleasure
I'm Me!
Can you dig it. My meat is real. My hands - how they move balanced like lithe demons My hair - so twined & writhing The skin of my face - pinch the cheeks My flaming sword tongue spraying verbal fire-flys I'm real. I'm human But I'm not an ordinary man No No No
What are you doing here? What do you want? Is it music? We can play music. But you want more. You want something & someone new. Am I right? Of course I am. I know what you want. You want ecstasy Desire & dreams. Things not exactly what they seem. I lead you this way, he pulls that way. I'm not singing to an imaginary girl. I'm talking to you, my self. Let's recreate the world. The palace of conception is burning. Look. See it burn. Bask in the warm hot coals. You're too young to be old You don't need to be told You want to see things as they are. You know exactly what I do Everything
I am a guide to the Labyrinth Monarch of the protean towers on this cool stone patio above the iron mist sunk in its own waste breathing its own breath
I can make the earth stop in it's tracks. I made the blue cars go away. I can make myself invisible or small. I can become gigantic & reach the farthest things. I can change the course of nature. I can place myself anywhere in space or time. I can summon the dead. I can perceive events on other worlds, in my deepest inner mind, & in the minds of others. I can I am
People need Connections Writers, heroes, stars, leaders To give life form. A child's sand boat facing the sun. Plastic soldiers in the miniature dirt war. Forts. Garage Rocket Ships Ceremonies, theatre, dances To reassert Tribal need & memories a call to worship, uniting above all, a reversion, a longing for family & the safety magic of childhood.
The grand highway
is
crowded
w/
lovers
&
searchers
&
leavers
so
eager
to
please
&
forget.
Wilderness.
Now is blessed
The rest
remembered
A man rakes leaves into a heap in his yard, a pile, & leans on his rake & burns them utterly. The fragrance fills the forest children pause & heed the smell, which will become nostalgia in several years
Sirens Water Rain & Thunder Jet from the base Hot searing insect cry The Frogs & crickets Doors open & close The smash of glass The Soft Parade An accident Rustle of silk, nylon Watering the dry grass Fire Bells Rattlesnake, whistles, castanets Lawn mower Good Humor man Skates & wagons Bikes
Where'd you learn about Satan - out of a book Love? - out of a box
night of sin (The Fall) -1st sex, a feeling of having done this same act in time before O No, not again
Between childhood, boyhood,
adolescence
& manhood (maturity) there
should be sharp lines drawn w/
Tests, deaths, feats, rites
stories, songs, & judgments
Men who go out on ships To escape sin & the mire of cities watch the placenta of evening stars from the deck, on their backs & cross the equator & perform rituals to exhume the dead dangerous initiations To mark passage to new levels To feel on the verge of an exorcism a rite of passage To wait, or seek manhood enlightenment in a gun To kill childhood, innocence in an instant
Trade-routes guide lines The Vikings & explores Discoverers The unconscious a map of the states The veins of hiways Beauty of a map Hidden connections Fast trampled forest Madness in a whisper neon crackle The hiss of tires A city growls rich vast & sullen like a slow monster come to fat & die
The
1st electric wildness came
over the people
on sweet Friday.
Sweat was in the air.
The channel beamed,
token of power.
Incense brewed darkly.
Who could tell then that here
it would end?
One school bus crashed w/ a train.
This was the Crossroads.
Mercury strained.
I couldn't get out of my seat.
The road was littered
w/ dead jitterbugs.
Help,
we'll be late for class.
The secret flurry of rumor
marched over the yard &
pinned us unwittingly
Mt. fever.
A girl stripped naked on the
base of the flagpole.
In the restrooms all was cool
& silent
w/ the salt-green of latrines.
Blankets were needed.
Ropes fluttered.
Smiles flattered
& haunted.
Lockers were pried open
& secrets discovered.
Ah sweet music.
Wild sounds in the night
Angel siren voices.
The baying of great hounds.
Cars screaming thru gears
& shrieks
on the wild skid & slid
into dangerous curves.
Favorite corners.
Cheerleaders raped in summer
buildings.
Holding hands
& bopping towards Sunday.
Those lean sweet desperate hours.
Time searched the hallways
for a mind.
Hands kept time.
The climate altered like a
visible dance.
Night-time women.
Wondrous sacraments of doubt
Sprang sullen in bursts
in the womb's pit hole
below
The belt of the beast
Worship w/ words, w/ sounds, hands, all joyful playful & obscene - in the insane infant.
We can do it on a sunny floor w/ friends & make any sound or movement that comes. Roll on our backs screaming w/ mirth glad in the guilt of our madness. Better to be cool in our worship & gain the respect of the ancient & wise wearing those robes. They know the secret of mind-change reality.
"Have you ever seen God?"
- a mandala. A symmetrical angel.
Felt? yes. Fucking. The Sun.
Heard? Music. Voices.
Touched? an animal. your hand.
Tasted? Rare meat, corn, water
& wine.
An angel runs Thru the sudden light Thru the room A ghost precedes us A shadow follows us And each time we stop We fall
No
one thought up being;
he who thinks he has
Step forward
Shrill demented sparrows bard The sun into being. They rule dawn's Kingdom. The cars - a rising chorus - Then workmen's songs & hammers The children of the schoolyard, a hundred high voices, complete the orchestration
"In that year there was
an intense visitation
of energy.
I left school & went down
to the beach to live.
I slept on the roof.
At night the moon became a
womanŽs face.
I met the Spirit of Music."
An appearance of the devil on a Venice canal. Running, I saw a Satan or Satyr, moving beside me, a fleshy shadow of my secret mind. Running, Knowing.
The day I left the beach A hairy Satyr running behind & a little to the right. In the holy solipsism of the young Now I can't walk thru a city street w/ out eying each single pedestrian. I feel their vibes thru my skin, the hair on my neck -it rises.
Eternal consciousness
in the Void
(makes trial & jail seem almost
friendly)
a Kiss in the Storm
(Madman at the wheel
gun at the neck
space populous & arching
coolly)
A barn
a cabin attic
Your own face
stationary
in the mirrored window
fear of restroom's
Tragic cold
neon
I'm freezing
animals
dead
white wings of
rabbits
grey velvet deer
The The Canyon
The car a craft
in wretched
SPACE
Sudden movements
& your past
to warm you
in Spiritless
Night
The Lonely HWY
Cold hiker
Afraid of Wolves
& his own Shadow
The Wolf
who lives under the rock
has invited me
to drink of his cool
Water.
Not to splash or bathe
But leave the sun
& know the dead desert
night
& the cold men
who play there.
a ha Come on, now luring the Traveler Mighty Voyager Curious, into its dark womb The graves grinning Indians of night Westward luring into the brothel, into the blood bath into the Dream The dark Dream of conquest & Voyage into night, Westward into the Night
Clothed in sunlight restless in wanting dying of fever Changed shapes of an empire Starling invaders Vast promissory notes of joy Wanton, willful & passive Married to doubt Clothed in great warring monuments of glory How it has changed you How slowly estranged you Solely arranged you Beg you for mercy
The Crossroads a place where ghosts reside to whisper into the ear of travelers & interest them in their fate Hitchhiker drinks: "I call again on the dark hidden gods of the blood" -Why do you call us? You know our price. It never changes. Death of you will give life & free you from a vile fate. But it is getting late. -If I could see you again & talk w/ you, & walk a short while in your company, & drink the heady brew of your conversations, I thought -to rescue a soul already ruined. To achieve respite. To plunder green gold on a pirate raid & bring to camp the glory of old. -As the capesman faces poisoned horns & drinks red victory; the soldier, too, w/ his trophy, a pierced helmet; shuddering his way into inward grace - laughter) Well then. Would you mock yourself? -No. -Soon our voices must become ne, or one must leave.
Forest strong sandals
burnt geometry fingers
around a fire
reading history in blackened
books, charcoal sentence
in moot splendor
Flame-tree
Sire, we met inEden
The troubled time
we had
rustling in the night leaves
a sniper aimed at our window
a kitten mewing in the blasted
strong air
I must go see
-You've found your Voice,
friend, after all else
I recognize fast the
Strong sure tones of
a poet
was it a question
search or of strangling?
I wonder
We never talked
But welcome here
to the camp fire
Share our meal
w/ us
& tell us of your life
& the hanging
-Well 1st I screamed
& I was a child again alive
Then nothing til the age
of 5
& then summers & the racetrack
I looked for a girl in
New Mexico
bars
& found jail
The prostitute looked out
her cell & saw
Fuck god scratched
on a leprous wall
-You're rambling boy
what of the rest
the jazz hiway
he winks.
-I got picked up
& rode thru the night
-did you see any buildings
-did I . . .
What was I doing
of course we danced plenty
She had nice sides
the cop hit me
Stop, I don't remember
-The logs are melting
we must move on
The fire's ending
we'll hear more
at the next alter
[musical interlude]
Trees
Train-death
The American Night
We went thru 5 cords
of wood this winter
-he told me beautiful stories
& had the most beautiful visions
He was a truly religious man
at the end
-you know, I like you guys
god-damn!
(I saw this cat run out
of the ocean, one night,
and beat-off into a fire)
I'm going down to Mexico
To this border town I heard
about & I'm gonna buy
me a girl & bring her
back up here & merry her, it's
true. This guy told me.
A friend of his knew someone who
-You're too much
There
was preserved
in her
The fresh miracle
of
surprise
Midnight criminal metabolism of guilt forest Rattlesnakes whistles castanets Remove me from this hall of mirrors This filthy glass Are you her Do you look like that How could you be when no one ever could
Poet of the call-girl storm She left a note on the bedroom door. "If I'm out, bring me to."
I dropped by to see you
late last night
But you were out
like a light
Your head was on the floor
& rats played pool w/ your eyes
Death is a good disguise
for late at night
Wrapping all games in its calm garden
But what happens
when the guests return
& all unmask
& you are asked
to leave
for want of a smile
IŽll still take you then
But I'm your friend
everyone has Their own magic There is no death so nothing matters High style Flash & forgive me high button shoes clean arrangement messy breeding love's triumph everlasting hope & fulfillment
for leather accrues The miracle of the streets The scents & smog & pollen of existence Shiny blackness so totally naked she was Totally un-hung-up We looked around lights now on To see our fellow travelers
I am troubled Immeasurably By your eyes I am struck By the feather of your soft Reply The sound of glass Speaks quick Disdain And conceals What your eyes fight To explain
She looked so sad in sleep Like a friendly hand just out of reach A candle stranded on a beach While the sun sinks low an H-bomb in reverse
Everything human
is leaving
her face
Soon she will disappear
into the calm
vegetable
morass
Stay!
My Wild Love!
I get my best ideas when the telephone rings & rings. It's no fun To feel like a fool - when your baby's gone. A new ax to my head: Possession. I create my own sword of Damascus. I've done nothing w/ time. A little tot prancing the boards playing w/ Revolution. When out there the World awaits & abounds w/ heavy gangs of murderers & real madmen. Hanging from windows as if to say: I'm bold - do you love me? Just for tonight. A One Night Stand. A dog howls & whines at the glass door (why can't I be in there?) A cat yowls. A car engine revs & races against the grain - dry rasping carbon protest. I put the book down - & begin my own book. Love for the fat girl. When will SHE get here?
In the gloom
In the shady living room
where we lived & died
& laughed & cried
& the pride of our relationship
took hold that summer
What a trip
To hold your hand
& tell the cops
you're not 16
no runaway
The wino left a little in
the old blue desert
bottle
Cattle skulls
the cliche' of rats
who skim the trees
in search of fat
Hip children invade the grounds
& sleep in the wet grass
'til the dogs rush out
I'm going South!
What can I read her
What can I read her
on a Sunday Morning
What can I do that will
somehow reach her
on a Sunday Morning
I'll read her the news of
The Indian Wars
Full of criss-calvary, blood
& gore
Stories to tame & charm
& more
On a Sunday Morning
Some wild fires Searchout a dry quiet kiss on leaving
Like our ancestors The Indians We share a fear of sex excessive lamentation for the dead & an abiding interest in dreams & visions
The
mushroom
The unfolding
instant of creation (fertilisation) not an instant separate from breakfast It all flows down & out, flowing but that instant: not fire & fusion (Fission) but a moment of jellied ice, crystal, vegetative mating merging in cool slime splendor a crushing of steel & glass & ice (instant in a bar: glasses clash, clink, collide) far-out splendor heat & fire are outward signs of a Small dry mating
event in a room event in space a circle Magic rite To call up the godhead spirits, demons The shaman calls: "when radio dark night..." We are eating each other.
The Voice of the Serpent
dry hiss of age & steam
& leaves of gold
old books in ruined
Temples
The pages break like ash
I will not disturb
I will not go
Come, he says softly
an Old man appears &
moves in tired dance
amid the scattered dead
gently they stir
I received an Aztec wall of vision & dissolved my room in sweet derision Closed my eyes, prepared to go A gentle wind inform'd me so And bathed my skin in ether glow
The cigarette burn'd my fingertips & dropp'd like a log to the rug below My eyes took a trip to dig the chick Crouch'd like a cat at the next window My ears assembled music out of swarming streets but my mind rebelled at the idiot's laughter The rising frightful idiot laughter Cheering an army of vacuum cleaners
Mouth fills w/ taste of copper. Chinese paper. Foreign money. Old posters. Gyro on a string, a table. A coin spins. The faces. There is an audience to our drama. Magic shade mask. Like the hero of a dream, he works for us, in our behalf. How close is this to a final cut? I fall. Sweet blackness. Strange world that waits & watches. Ancient dread of non-existence. If it's no problem, why mention it. Everything spoken means that, its opposite, & everything else. I'm alive. I'm dying.
1st wild thrush of fear
-A phone rings
There is a knock on the door.
It's time to go.
No.
The walls screamed poetry disease & sex
an inner whine like a mad machine
The Computer |
faces of the men |
|
The wall collage |
reading matter |
|
The Traders (dealers) |
|
|
|
|
|
|
dropped in a
cave of roaches
or rodents
I am a guide to the labyrinth Come & see me in the green hotel Rm. 32 I will be there after 9:30 P.M. I will show you the girl of the ghetto I will show you the burning well I will show you strange people haunted, beast-like, on the verge of evolution -Fear The Lords who are secret among us
Leaving the phone-booth, I was
Struck by a whiff of
the weird.
Insane old country woman
come to nag the haunts
of town
Hairy legs w/ open sores.
From what swamp or under-rock
did you crawl to remind
to leave
Androgynous, liquid, happy Heavy Facile & vapid Weighted w/ words Mortgaged soul Wandering preachers, & Delta Tramps Box-cars of heaven New Orleans Nile Sunset
The form is a plane above
the earth, A soldier bails
out, leaving his entrails
fluttering, billowing, Scoop'd
down, windy midwife, wrench'd
by the world from her rich
belly, my metal mother,
ripped cord, down & frozen.
Following pilot the eye of
the plane; "Great Eye of Night"
God on a windscreen, wind-
scream, wormwind
Trailing.
(& hide among women
like a toothless bird)
Burned by air
Burned bad by light
in the
[gun shot]
O Wow
he's shot
& the scarlet news
(hoarse mute confusion
of the witness crowd)
Airport. Messenger in the form of a soldier. Green wool. He stood there, off the plane. A new truth, too horrible to bear. There was no record of it anywhere in the ancient signs or symbols. People looked at each other, in the mirror, their children's eyes. Why had it come. There was no escape from it anywhere. A truth too horrible to name. Only a loose puking moan could frame its dark interiors. Only a few could look upon its face w/ calm. Most of the people fell instantly under its dark terror. They looked to the calm ones but saw only a green military coat. Repent! None of the old Things worked.
disciple Scar death Magic Prison Garden Shelter Princess of Sorrow Wilderness Angel of envy Call Me Tomorrow Bones Landing Gold Arrival
Street. Steel thrust sucking space.
Silent willful turbines, motors
raving
City of clouds, pirates of air.
Land of rainbows & scarlet rare
islands.
We are here, parables.
Silent climbers
The breast engine mattered.
Monster in drag, a tin damsel
Shuddered & flew
Cut spent space
Crazed ace
Collect
The cake-walk.
The barn is burning
The race-track is over
Farmers run w/
buckets of water
The Horse flesh is burning
They're kicking the stalls
(panic in a horse's eye
That can spread & fill
an entire sky.)
The clouds flow by
& tell a story
about the lightning bolt & the mast
on the steeple
Some people have a hard time
describing sailors to the
undernourished.
The decks are starving
Time to throw the cargo over
Now down & the high-sailing
fluttering of smiles on the air
w/ its cool night time disturbance
Tropic corridor
Tropic Treasure
What got us this far to this
mild equator
Now we need something
& something new
when all else fails
we can whip the horse's eyes
& make them cry
& sleep
France is 1st, Nogales round-up Cross over the border- land of eternal adolescence quality of despair unmatched anywhere on the perimeter Message from the outskirts calling us home This is the private space of a new order. We need saviors To help us survive the journey. Now who will come Now hear this We have started the crossing Who knows? it may end badly The actors are assembled; immediately they become enchanted I, for one, am in ecstasy enthralled. Can I convince you to smile? No wise men now. Each on his own grab your daughter & run
"Oh God, she cried I never knew what it meant to be real I thought all this was a joke, I never let the horror, or the sweetness & the dignity penetrate my brain" "Let me up to see the window. Dark Riders pass in the sunset coming home from raiding parties. The taverns will be full of laughter, wine, & later dancing, later dangerous knife throws. Antonio will be there & that whore, Blue Lady playing cards w/ silver decks & smiling at the night, & full glasses held aloft & spilled to the moon. I'm sad, so full of sadness"
She's selling news in the market
Time in the hall
The girls of the factory
Rolling cigars
They haven't invented musak yet
So I read to them
From The BOOK OF DAYS
a horror story from the Gothic age
a gruesome romance
From the LA
Plague
I have a vision of America
Seen from the air
28,000 ft. & going fast
A one-armed man in a Texas
parking labyrinth
A burnt tree like a giant primeval bird
in an empty lot in Fresno
Miles & miles of hotel corridors
& elevators, filled w/ citizens
Motel Money Murder Madness
Changed the mood from glad to sadness
play the ghost song baby
a young woman, bound silently, on a hospital table, obviously pregnant, is gutted & rifled of her empire object of oblivion
Drugs sex drunkenness battle return to the water-world Sea-belly Mother of man Monstrous sleep-walking gentle swarming atomic world Anomie in social life how can we hate or love or judge in the sea-swarm world of atoms All one, one All How can we play or not play How can we put one foot before us or revolutionize or write
Does the house burn? So be it. The World, a film which men devise. Smoke drifts thru these chambers Murders occur in a bedroom. Mummers chant, birds hush & coo. Will this do? Take Two.
each
day is a drive thru history
The great hiway of dawn
Stretching to slumber
pouring out from her greedy
palms a shore, to wander
Hesitation & doubt
Swiftly ensconced
O Viking, your women
cannot save you
out on the great ship
Time has claimed you
Coming for you
And I came to you
for peace
And I came to you
for gold
And I came to you
for lies
And you gave me fever
& wisdom
& cries
& sorrow
& we'll be here
the next day
the next day
&
Tomorrow
There's a belief by the Children of Man which states all will be well Search on man, clam savior Veteran of wars incalculable greed. Search on man, calm savior God-speed & forgive you morning-star, fragrant meadow person girl
down
down
down
down
down
down
deep
below
children of the caves will let their
secret fires glow
An explosion of birds Dawn Sun strokes the walls An old man leaves the Casino A young man reading pauses on the path to the garden
Bitter winter
Fiction dogs are starving
The radio is moaning softly
calling to the dogs
There are still a few
animals left out in the yard
Sit up all night,
talking smoking
Count the dead & wait
'til morning
Will warm names & faces
come again
Does the silver forest end?
December Isles
Hot morning chambers
of the New Day
Idiot first to awaken (be born)
w/ shadows of new play
learned men
in Sunday best
we've had our chance to rest
to morn the passing of day
to lament the death of our
glorious member
(she whispers secret messages
of love in the garden
to her friends, the bees)
The garden would be here
forevermore
Mexican parachute Blue green pink Invented of Silk & stretched on grass Draped in the trees of a Mexican Park T-shirt boys in their Slumbering art
-I fear that he's been maim'd beyond all recognition He hears them come & murmur over his corpse. Street Pizza.
funny,
I keep expecting a
knock on the door
well, that's what you
get for living around
people
a Knock? would shatter
my dream's illusions
deportment & composure
The struggle of a poor poet
to stay out of the grips
of novels & gambling
& journalism
A
quality of ignorance,
self-deception may be
necessary to the poet's
survival
Actors must make us think they're real Our friends must not make us think we're acting They are, though, in slow Time My wild words slip into fusion & risk losing the solid ground So stranger, get wilder still Probe the Highlands
Bourbon is a wicked brew, recalling courage milk, refined poison of cockroach & tree-bark, leaves & fly-wings scraped from the land, a thick film; menstrual fluids no doubt add their splendor. It is the eagle's drink.
Why do I drink? So that I can write poetry. Sometimes when it's all spun out and all that is ugly recedes into a deep sleep There is an awakening and all that remains is true. As the body is ravaged the spirit grows stronger. Forgive me Father for I know what I do. I want to hear the last Poem of the last Poet.
-What is connection? -When 2 motions, thought to be infinite & mutually exclusive, meet in a moment. -Of Time? -Yes. -Time does not exist. There is no time. -Time is a straight plantation.
The diamond shone like broken glass Upon the midnight street And all atop the walls were wet Their white eyes glint & sleek Then from afar a gnome appeared An angel flashed on furry feet The boulevard became a river While waiting crowds began to quiver I was in a motel watching Whiskey in my hand Her breath was soft, the wind was warm Someone in a room was born
Accomplishments:
To make works in the face
of the void
To gain form, idenity
To raise from the herd-crowd
Public favor
public fervor
even the bitter Poet-Madman is
a clown
Treading the boards
Cold electric music
Damage me
Rend my mind
w/ your dark slumber
Cold temple of steel
Cold minds alive
on the strangled shore
Veterans of foreign wars
We are the soldiers of
Rock & Roll Wars
Whether to be a
great cagey perfumed
beast
dying under the
sweet patronage
of Kings
& exist like luxuriant
flowers beneath the
emblems of their
Strange empire
or by mere insouciant
faith
slap them, call their cards
spit on fate & cast hell
to flames in usury
by dying, nobly
we could exist like
innocent trolls
propagate our revels
& give the finger to the
gods in our private
bedrooms
let's rather, maybe,
perhaps,
get fucking out in
the open, & by
swelling, jubilantly
Magnificently, end them.