Postcards from the Dream State
 
 
Thomas Adam Hill
                                                                          
 
 
ZEN MOMENTS
 
 
WITH NO THOUGHT OF RETURN
THE CAT EYES THE TREE,
THE ROAD TO THE SKY.
 
THE YELLOW PERCH CAUGHT
IN THE CHICKEN WIRE TRAP
THRASHES! THRASHES SO !
 
HAVING  AN IDEA
I TAKE DOWN THE WHITE GUITAR,
BUT THE MOON'S SONG IS BETTER.
 
SHE LEAVES HER UNDERPANTS
WERE THEY FALL ON THE BATHROOM FLOOR,
MINDLESS OF THE BOYS WHO COME OVER.
 
THE MONARCH BUTTERFLIES
LIE NUMB ON THE GROUND,
THEIR REAR ENDS STUCK TOGETHER.
 
THE CAT'S EYES ARE CLOSED TO SLITS,
SLITS IN FUR, BUT HIS WHITE WHISKERS
GUARD AGAINST DANGER.
 
THE WATER SPIDER
RESTS ON THE SURFACE TENSION,
SUSPENDED BETWEEN TO WORLDS.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
                       POSTCARDS FROM THE DREAM STATE
                                  
 
I HAD FLOUNDERED AROUND NOT DIRECTIONLESS,
BUT UNCERTAIN ENOUGH TO MERELY SKIM THE
SURFACE OF THE SAND FOR SO LONG THAT BOTH
MY EYES, LIKE THE FLOUNDER, APPEARED ON
ONE SIDE OF MY FACE. IT WAS TIME TO DO
SOMETHING WITH ALL I HAD LEARNED, WITH ALL
I HAD EXPERIENCED,  WITH WHAT  I HAD BECOME,
SOMETHING THAT WOULD USE THE FULLNESS OF
WHAT I WAS. I TOOK A CAREFUL INVENTORY.
 
 
I REMEMBER
SHE HAD
LILAC LIPS
CHRYSANTHEMUM HIPS
AND TULIP TITS,
AND OH A WHOLE LOT MORE.
 
BLUE BOLT OF SILK ACROSS THE TABLE,
CASBAH  MAZE OF MYSTERY IN MY EYE,
I SEE TURBANED ARABS IN THE SKY,
BUT I DON'T KNOW WHY.
 
THE YELLOW  HAIRED WOMAN
VORACIOUSLY EYES
THE BANANA SHE IS PEELING.
 
CUMULUS   CLOUDS ACCUMULATE
ON THE EDGE OF THE SKY,
MILK IN A BOWL.
 
THE JUNKMAN'S DAUGHTER
CHICKENS ARE SLAUGHTERED
BY A WIRE THAT CUTS  THEIR THROATS.
 
LAUGHY  KATHY HEARS VOICES IN HER HEAD
SHE RATHER HEAR COMPLIMENTS INSTEAD
IT'S A VOICE THAT COMES FROM THE SKY
BUT SHE SURE AS HELL DOESN'T KNOW WHY.
 
 
 
 
ARE WE ALL SICK OR HAS THE WORLD GONE MAD?
WE ARE ALL SICK  IN ONE WAY OR ANOTHER
AND YES THE WORLD HAS GONE MAD.
THE SANE MAKES LESS SENSE THAN THE CRAZED
THIS WORLD HAS GOT ALL MY FRIENDS DAZED.
 
NOW WHAT WAS THAT ABOUT SILK OH YES:
THE FABRIC MAN ROLLS OUT
A WAVING BOLT OF EXOTIC SILK
ACROSS THE TABLES OF OTHER PATTERNS.
VISIONS OF AN ARAB TENT,  SINBAD,
AND MAGIC LAMPS DANCE IN OUR HEADS.
YOU ARE MY GENIE, MY EXOTICA!
I NEED NO SAMOVAR, OR YAFFA CAFE,
NO RED DOT ON YOUR FOREHEAD
OR BELLS ON BELT AND FEET,
AS LONG AS YOU ARE MINE AND I AM YOURS,
I NEED NO FURTHER ENTICEMENTS  TO EXCITE ME.
ONLY MY HAND BRUSHING YOUR BREAST ACCIDENTLY,
OR A GAZE AT THE JEWELS OF YOUR EYES.
 
WHY DO YOU NOT DESIRE MY LOVE ANYMORE?
WHAT IS THE ANSWER HAS YOUR LOVE CHANGED
OR DISAPPEARED? DOSE YOUR BODY FIND MINE
REPULSIVE? ARE YOU PHYSICALLY SICK? ARE
YOU MENTALLY ILL? IS IT THINGS  I SAY OR DO,
OR THE LACK OF TRUST OR FEELINGS THAT HAVE
CAUSED YOU TO WITHDRAW? TELL ME.
 
MAHOOT HE RIDE  THE ELEPHANT
THE WOMEN ARE PICKING TEA
I DRINK WITH FRIENDS IN CEYLON
A SUNSET SUNBURST IS OVER THE SEA.
 
SOME PEOPLE ASPIRE TO BE LAWYERS,
OTHERS SETTLE ON BEING LAWYERS.
 
THE SKY IS GRAY,
THE BRIDGE IS BLUE,
A MARVEL ARE THE MARBLE
STREETS OF  SNOW,
I LOVE YOU.
 
 
 ZEN MOMENTS
 
WITH NO THOUGHT OF RETURN
THE CAT EYES THE TREE,
THE ROAD TO THE SKY.
 
THE YELLOW PERCH CAUGHT
IN THE CHICKEN WIRE TRAP
THRASHES! THRASHES SO !
 
HAVING  AN IDEA
I TAKE DOWN THE WHITE GUITAR,
BUT THE MOON'S SONG IS BETTER.
 
SHE LEAVES HER UNDERPANTS
WERE THEY FALL ON THE BATHROOM FLOOR,
MINDLESS OF THE BOYS WHO COME OVER.
 
THE MONARCH BUTTERFLIES
LIE NUMB ON THE GROUND,
THEIR REAR ENDS STUCK TOGETHER.
 
THE CAT'S EYES ARE CLOSED TO SLITS,
SLITS IN FUR, BUT HIS WHITE WHISKERS
GUARD AGAINST DANGER.
 
THE WATER SPIDER
RESTS ON THE SURFACE TENSION,
SUSPENDED BETWEEN TO WORLDS.
 
 
I TRIED TO DEAL WITH  REALITY FOR 35 YEARS,
BUT FORTUNATELY I OVERCAME IT.
 
LIKE A SPY  COMING IN FROM THE COLD
FEELING SO ALONE, CONTINUING
THE MAD WEARY DANCE WITH DEATH.
 
YOU'RE COLD AND I'M TIRED OF BEGGING.
YOU CAN COME TO ME WHEN YOU WANT ME
AND YOU CAN DO THE BEGGING FOR A CHANGE,
AND MAYBE I'LL STILL BE HERE.
 
 
WE'VE BEEN THROUGH A LOT
AND WE'VE COME A LONG WAY
LIKE BROTHER AND SISTER
WE FEEL EACH OTHER INSTINCTIVELY.
 
LOVER TO LOVER
FROM STAGE TO STAGE
WE RISE HIGHER AND HIGHER
ON THE LOVE PLANE.
 
TROUBLE IN ZANZIBAR,
YOU ARE A FRIENDLY PERSUASION.
 
PIMP CARS, WHITE EL DORADOS
& HOOKERS IN CHIC CLOTHES,
ROBINS BOOKSTORE GLOWS,
A YOUNG POET OPENS THE GLASS DOORS.
HE GLANCES AT THE CLOCKS OF CITY HALL,
THE YELLOW EYES OF THE PANTHER NIGHT
ON THE PROWL.
 
THE WAYS OF A WOMAN...
AH  NOW THERE IS A RARE
AND COMPLEX MYSTERY.
 
WHO'S THE STAR, THE THIEF , THE  PRIEST
ITíS ALL THE SAME TO ME.
TO BE A GOOD MAN WHILE HERE ON EARTH,
THAT IS WHAT IS IMPORTANT.
 
 
 
 
HER STRAW COLORED HAIR,
DISTANT BLUE EYES & LARGE LIPS,
LOOSE BLOUSE AND PANTS
THAT CLING TO HER BEAUTIFUL HIPS,
HER ALLURING STEPS CREATE A NEW WORLD.
THE COMING OF MARTA
THE DISPERSAL OF A TOWN
WHAT REMAINS  AND
AND WHAT WILL NEVER BE AGAIN.
WE ALONE ARE THE WAY.
SO THERE ARE MANY WAYS.
 
I KNOW MANY PEOPLE
WHO SAY NOTHING SO WELL
BEAUTIFUL IMAGES
THEY WILL MERGE
BUT THEIR MEANING IS HOLLOW.
PEOPLE STANDING IN LINE FOR A MOVIE,
THE BLACK SPOTS OF A LONG GREEN SNAKE.
DANCER IN A NIGHT CLUB,
THE CARBONATED FIZZLE OF ALKA- SELZTER.
THE TITILLATION OF THE MIND
IS A ENGAGING ART,
BUT I'M ALREADY AMUSED,
TONGS ,GONGS, AND TOGAS OLAY! GO AWAY!
PLEASE HELP ME,
TELL ME SOMETHING.
 
 
SOMETIMES I FEEL I'M CARRYING A HEAVY
SUITCASE, DRAGGING IT  ON THE GROUND.
USELESS, DULL BORING AND TIRING IS THE
WEIGHT. I FEEL OLD, MUCH OLDER THAN MY AGE.
I'M TIRED, WORN OUT BY YOU.
YOUR LIFELESSNESS HAS NO LIMITS.
I BREATHE MY LIFE INTO YOU.
LIKE AIR INTO A BALLOON.
BUT THE BALLOON DOESN'T INFLATE.
IT GIVES NOTHING BACK AND I'M OUT OF BREATH.
WHAT AM I TO DO? I LOVE YOU,
BUT I MUST TURN YOU LOOSE.
 
 
THE G  FORCES
ARE PULLING ME
DOWN TO EARTH. BUT I KNOW ONE THING:
THERE  AIN'T NO FUTURE
IN BEING A BALLOON.
 
SOMEDAY THE MEN
WHO MAKE THEIR  ELLIPTICAL ORBIT
AROUND YOUR HIPS ARE GOING TO LOSE
THEIR GRAVITATIONAL ATTRACTION.
 
THREE CATS ALL GRAY
SAT AROUND ALL DAY
AND ONE HAD THE MAKINGS
OF BEING A GANGSTER
WHEN HE GREW UP.
BUT THE OTHER TWO,
WHO WERE QUITE TAME
AND WELL TO DO,
HELPED HIM OUT
AND HE TURNED OUT
ALL RIGHT.
 
DIG THE DRUMMER
JUST DIG THE DRUMMER OF HIS COMBO,
TAPPING ON HIS TOP HAT, KEEPING A STEADY BEAT,
ON THE SNARE, ON BASS, NOW SYNCOPATED,
CATCHING YOU OFF GUARD, SURPRISING YOU
WITH THE STOPS, SWEAT STREAMING FROM HIS
FOREHEAD, THEN THE STICKS(BONES) COMING
DOWN HERE, THERE, AND YOU WAIT, AND THEN AGAIN,
AND THE CRASH OF THE CYMBAL SIGNALING THE
END OF A BREAK. THE RHYTHM, THE BEAT,
THE BACKBONE OF THE SONG, AND THE GUITAR
WINDS ON...
 
WE WERE SO CLOSE, NOW WE'RE THROUGH.
BUT IF YOU SEE ME ON THE STREET THOUGH,
JUST SAY HELLO, THAT'S ALL I ASK,
JUST SAY HELLO.
 
 
 
 
A Dream... A man with a coat of many colors
 
sees a young woman walking near olive trees
 
on an arid plain. She is carrying a large
 
bowl of fruit.  The man, with a living lamb
 
in his arms, approaches and presents it to
 
her. They walk beside one another, speaking
 
softly as they go.  At the house, he
 
slaughters the lamb and nails it to the window.
 
A strange ritual ensues which they both
 
accept and participate in.  He ties her to
 
to the window,  rips her clothes off.  She is
 
standing naked in the window, blood of the
 
lamb against her, trickling down her legs.
 
She is there for several days.  He gives her
 
fruit whenever she wants it.
 
 
 
"I SWEAR TO GOD," SHE SAYS
TURNING TO HER DAUGHTER TO VERIFY THIS.
"VANESSA ISN'T IT TRUE,
I WAS GOING THROUGH MY BOOK  TODAY,
AND I SEE HERE MAN AND A NUMBER."
 
"FALLING IN LOVE IS OKAY IF
YOU DON'T HAVE FRIENDS."
 
 
I NO LONGER ASK
THE BIG QUESTIONS.
I PREFER LIFE
THAT DAZZLES MY EYES.
 
I'm not going to think about
what I may have done wrong
and what I may have done right.
THE MOON IS THE PUPIL OF THE SKY EYE,
AND I'M SEEING BEYOND THE WORLD AS IT IS.
SKY SHINE DOWN ON ME,
THE SKY WON'T COST YOU NOTHING,
SKY WILL SET YOU FREE.
EARLIER WE LAY IN BED
HOLDING EACH OTHER TIGHT
AND WATCHED THE PINK ZEBRAS
RUNNING ACROSS THE TIRED TILED SKY
AT THE END OF THE DAY.
WE ARE THE MOVIE OF THE SKY NOW,
AS WE LIE HERE, ITS EYE FOCUSED ON US,
ONLY YOU AND I AND ALL THIS DARK SPACE.
 
BLUE SKY, GREEN TREES, YELLOW ROOM,
I WILL SIT WITH HANDS FOLDED
BEHIND MY HEAD AND THINK
ABOUT THE ONE I LOVE ALL DAY.
 
 
 
THROUGH THE PULSE STOPS
THE SOUL DANCES ON,
RUNNING LIKE A GREYHOUND,
TRADING MEMORIES
FOR A NEW DREAM.
 
IN HIS ROOM,
THE WHITE GUITAR
STUCK OUT
LIKE A SKULL
IN A LANDFILL  OR CITY DUMP.
BUT EVEN WITH ALL THE CLUTTER
IT WAS PEACEFUL THERE,
PEACEFUL AS A CLOUD,
TRANSLUCENT AND EVASIVE,
AS THOUGH THE ROOM
WAS A REFLECTION OF HIS  INNER BEING:
LIKE A CLOUD, THERE BUT NOT THERE
WHEN YOUR HANDS REACH TO TOUCH,
LIKE A CLOUD TOO WERE THE NOTES
OF THE WHITE GUITAR, FLOATING UP
INTO A BEAUTIFUL  WOMAN,  DELICATE GENIUS,
INSUPPRESSIBLE, SO THERE BUT NOT THERE,
SO MYSTERIOUS TO TOUCH.
AND THEN  HE WAS GONE.
AGAIN THE WHITE GUITAR HANGS
IN A MUSIC STORE ALONG WITH ALL
THE OTHER GUITARS, UNTIL A YOUNG MAN
WALKS IN AND WHEN  ASKED "CAN I HELP YOU",
SAYS, "YEAH, LET ME SEE THAT WHITE GUITAR."
 
PUSHY MOMS
(OR HE'LL NEVER
BE A ROCK & ROLL STAR)
 
MUSIC STORE DOOR SWINGS OPEN.
IN STRIDES  A  MOM FOLLOWED  BY A SHEEPISH SON.
WHAT CAN I DO FOR YOU TODAY?  SAYS THE SALESMAN.
OH, HE BROKE HIS STRING,  SHE RETORTS.
LET ME SEE, SAYS THE SALESMAN.  AS HE PULLS
THE SHINNY BLACK GUITAR FROM IT'S CASE.
YEAH, THAT'S WHAT YOU DID, YOU BROKE A STRING.
TELL HIM WHAT YOU DID SON, SO YOU WON'T DO IT AGAIN.
I....I PLUCKED IT.
 
 
 
LOVE IS DISCOVERED
COMPLETELY BY CHANCE.
 
EVERYTHING IS HARDER
THAN YOU THINK IT WILL BE,
BUT EVERYTHING IS EASIER THAN IT SEEMS,
 
SUMMER IN THE CITY.
HOW TO TELL IT'S SUMMER IN NEW YORK.
PINEAPPLES BOB & FLOAT IN THE RIVER.
THOUSANDS OF THEM.
 
I TAKE THE BARE FACTS,
THE BARE MINIMUM OF  DETAILS,
AND TRY TO BREATHE LIFE
(BASED ON MY SENSATIONS
OF THE ORIGINAL LIFE OF THE PERSON
OR THING TO WHICH THEY BELONG)
INTO THESE BARE FACTS.
 
WIND SURFERS ABOVE IN THE GULF,
HAND PAINTED SAILS, RED AND WHITE,
SHORT PEROXIDED  HAIR SWEPT BACK & STICKING UP
FROM THE MIXTURE OF SALT AND SEA AND AIR.
STANDING LIKE MATADORS ON  THEIR BOARDS ,
HOLDING THE SAILS AT ARMS LENGTH
AND LEANING,   LEANING,   INTO THE WIND.
 
YOUR MIND SEEKING KNOWLEDGE CHECKS IN
AT THE INFORMATION TABLES:  FACTS  FACTS
AND MORE FACTS, YOU CAN'T HAVE TOO MANY FACTS -
READ, READ, READ, LEARN, LEARN, LEARN,
LISTEN, LISTEN, LISTEN, ABSORB & STORE, ABSORB & STORE,
KNOWLEDGE,  HAH!     WHAT IS IT GOOD FOR?
 
 
WHILE YOUR BODY IS OVER HERE
DOING SOME WILD CHINGA, CHINGA, DANCE,
THAT'S ALL IT WANTS TO DO IS MOVE & MAKE LOVE.
THAT'S ALL IT REALLY EVER WANTED TO DO-
WAS TO RUN & MOVE & MAKE LOVE & REST.
THAT'S ALL, NOTHING MORE.
 
 
 
(SOUL CARNIVAL)
UP ON A PLATFORM,
TWO 2X4S FOR POSTS
AND AN ELECTRIC WIRE
STRUNG BETWEEN THEM
WITH ONE LIGHT BULB
IN THE MIDDLE AS A SPOTLIGHT,
YOUR SOUL, IHRE SEELE, YOUR LIBIDO
IS UP THERE, WITH SUNGLASSES ON,
SINGING THE WAY YOU TRULY FEEL  INSIDE.
BUT THAT IS ONLY PART OF THE CARNIVAL.
OVER TO THE SIDE ON A FERRIS WHEEL
YOUR ENTERTAIN ROMANTIC NOTIONS,
YOUR HEART GOES BOOM BOOM,
YOUR HEAD GOES ROUND AND ROUND,
KISSY  KISSY OF DOVES IN THE NIGHT.
 
SO THIS IS THE WAY LIFE IS?
WHEN YOU'RE EVEN KEELED,
NOT DRUNK, NOT HIGH,
NOT ENTHUSIASTIC TO BEGIN WITH,
THIS IS THE WAY LIFE IS?
AT FIRST IT SEEMED DEPRESSING,
I EVEN CONSIDERED SUICIDE,
BUT THEN I  REALIZED IT'S NOT
SOME JOLLY ROMP, SOME SIDE SPLITTING
HYSTERICAL  EXUBERANCE  OF  AN  EVENT,
AND THAT'S OKAY.  SOMETIMES IT IS
EXCITING, SOMETIMES IT IS DULL,
BUT MOSTLY IT IS LIKE THIS, NEITHER
GOOD NOR BAD, HAPPY OR SAD, NOTHING  EXCESSIVE,
& I ACCEPT IT, EVEN THOUGH IT BORES ME CRAZY.
 
 
YOU KNOW WHEN YOU FALL IN LOVE
CAUSE YOU START SINGING EVEN IF YOU CAN'T SING.
 
 
 
SHE LEAVES HER UNDERPANTS
WERE THEY FALL ON THE BATHROOM FLOOR,
MINDLESS OF ALL THE BOYS WHO COME OVER.
 
THERE IS A FULL GUARD
AND A FULL MOON
ON PRINCE CHARLES
IN NEW YORK TODAY.
 
 
I'M READY-
I WILL CONTINUE TO GROW
BUT I'M PREPARED TO SHOW
WHAT I'VE GOT.
 
FACE TO FACE WITH ETERNITY:
A FEELING THAT ALL YOU HAVE BEEN DOING,
YOUR WHOLE LIFE, YOUR DREAMS,
ARE GOING TO BE ROLLED UP
LIKE AN OLD USELESS CARPET
AND PUT OUT ON THE STREET.
 
MOSES IS GOOD.
A CHECKER BOARD
LIES BETWEEN US.
I TAKE MY WHITE DISCS
AND LINE THEM UP AGAIN.
 
LIFE IS NOT FUN, YOU SAID.
WHEN I ASKED, WELL WHAT IS IT,
YOU DIDN'T HAVE AN ANSWER.
YOU'VE GOT ME WALKING ON EGGSHELLS.
 
A BLUE & WHITE
PARAKEET
FREE IN NEW YORK CITY.
 
 
Agonized and tortured, imprisoned
in my damp cell of solitude,
I am driven by a desire
for Life bursting
           LIKE A YELLOW RACE CAR
          THROUGH  THE STREETS OF MONACO,
          OVER THE HILLS OF THE UNKNOWN.
 
SLEEPING IN THE MIDDLE ROOM
THE APARTMENT SPREADS OUT
LIKE BRIGHT WINGS OF A BUTTERFLY
ASYMMETRICAL GREEN & WHITE, COPPER & RED,
THE SUN STREAMING  THROUGH ONE WING;
THE OTHER GOLD & OAK, & BRICK,
GRAY & ORANGE & SEAMS OF LIGHT STITCHING
THE LIVING TISSUE OF COLOR  TOGETHER.
MY LOVE GOES TO & FRO
LIKE THE WIND MAKES
THE WING CANT BACK & FORTH.
I SIGH & SINK DEEPER INTO THE PILLOW,
SLEEPING LATE ON A SATURDAY MORNING.
 
 
NO WAY OUT         MARIGOLDS.
IT STARTED SO LONG AGO.
LAST NIGHT WE WERE SO CLOSE,
CLOSER THEN I EVER FELT BEFORE,
TODAY WAS PAINTED WITH THE SAME FEELING.
YOU WERE RIGHT WHEN YOU SAID
"WE CAN'T STOP THIS,
EVEN IF WE WANTED TO",
THERE'S NO WAY OUT NOW.
 
SPECTRUM, TO SHOW THE RANGE OF COLORS,
THOUGHTS, EMOTIONS THAT ARE IN US,
SOME PAINFUL, SOME FUN, BUT ALL NECESSARY,
VITAL, INTEGRAL TO OUR LOVES, AND OUR LIVES.
LEAVE NOTHING OUT, SHOW ENTIRE SPECTRUM,
LOVE, HATE, EROTIC, DEMENTED, IMAGISTIC,
ROMANTIC, EMOTIONALLY STRAINED TO PEACEFUL SERENITY.
 
 
DEEP MYSTERIES, THEMES, IDEAS,
THAT CAN DELIGHT CHILDREN ,
AND FASCINATE ADULTS.
 
THE MAN HOLES                                                                               +
ARE SCATTERED LIKE LARGE PENNIES                              ----FROM
FLIPPED DOWN  HERE FROM THE THUMB                             THE ROOF
OF SOME GREAT INDIAN MAN-GOD.                                     OF A TWENTY                                      
COPPER STUCK IN BLACK TAR.                                         STORY BUILDING
 
THE SPRING FESTIVAL
CONTINUES IN THE PARK.
ROUND GREEN BROCCOLI TREES.
 
 
DAYS OF ANGUISH, THE JOYS OF LIFE HAVE CEASED
"WHY CONTINUE?"  WHEN YOUNGER I WOULD HAVE ASKED.
BUT NOW THE THOUGHT OF SUICIDE IS DULL.
SHE IS WAITING ON THE BED, I YEARN FOR  NOTHING.
DEAD IS THE PAST, THE FUTURE HOLDS NO PROMISES,
I WILL SIT AND BROOD AND BROOD AND BROOD,
NO MATTER HOW FOOLISH IT IS.
 
BLONDE HAIR TEEN BABIES
IN PINK BIKINIS
DONíT KNOW RIGHT FROM WRONG,
BUT THEY LEAD YOU TO THINK
THEY BELIEVE IN FLESH ON THE BONE
AND TELEPHONES.
 
INTO THE BLUE LACE AGATE HAZE
ABOVE THE ROAD WINDING UPWARDS
THROUGH GREEN OPAL MOUNTAINS ,
LOVERS GO TO REST IN THE
ROUNDNESS OF THE MOUNTAINS.
 
 
IF I DIE TONIGHT
I SUPPOSE THE SUN
WILL BE JUST AS BRIGHT
IN THE MORNING
AS I HAVE OBSERVED
WITH DELIGHT
ON MANY DAYS
IN MANY PLACES
IN MANY HOUSES
THE SKY'S SPACES
THAT HAVE LIGHTED
THE YEARS I HAVE LIVED
AND THE LIFE AND THE PEOPLE
I HAVE SEEN.
 
A WHITE HOUSE
ON THE ROAD AT NIGHT
IT'S GRANDIOSE TREE
OF LOOMING HEIGHT,
AND THE YOUNG BOY
WITH HIS TELESCOPE SIGHT
GAZING AT THE STARS SO BRIGHT.
 
AND THE YOUNG MOTHER
AND FATHER AND THEIR
GOLDEN HAIRED DAUGHTER
IN FLORIDA,  AND THE
BLUE SKY FROM THE WINDOW
AND THE ORANGE GROVE BEYOND,
AND I THINK HOW I WOULD NOT MIND
SEEING THE SUN AGAIN,  NO
I WOULDN'T MIND IT AT ALL.
 
QUOTE FROM SYLVIA
"THAT'S WHAT  I'VE ALWAYS SAID:
"LET ME DIE WITH A SMILE ON MY FACE,
OR BETTER YET,  IN BED,
WITH A COCK INSIDE ME!'
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
THE ORANGE SUN IS NEAR THE BLUE MOUNTAIN HORIZON.
UNDER THE DOGWOODS, JAKE SPREADS THE YELLOW BLANKET FOR SALLY.
THEIR ORGASMS BURST IN BRIGHT WHITE BLOSSOMS.
THE LILAC PEACH SKY COOLS BEHIND THE LINE OF WHITE DOGWOOD TREES.
 
CHAN--- LOT OF TIMES IN MY FLESH I JUST WANT TO RUN TO THE HILLS.
 
THINGS  DON'T JUST HAPPEN. YOU HAVE TO MAKE THEM HAPPEN,
AND THEN YOU JUST GO WITH THE FLOW.
 
TO SYLVIA FOR VALENTINE'S DAY
 
OUT OF THE CLOUDS!
OUT THE HAZY CONTEMPLATION
AND SELF ABSORPTION
OUT OF FORGETFULNESS
OUT OF THE SILVERY
PARTICLES GLITTERING
IN THE BARBITURATE  SKY
 
COME  OUT AND BREATHE
THE ODOR OF THE EARTH
YOU ARE SO WARM
AND EMOTIONAL
SO KIND
SO CAPABLE
OF LOVING
LOVING IN
THE BEAUTIFUL
FULL WAY
THAT ONLY
YOU CAN LOVE.
 
STAND THERE
TALL ONE
WITH YOUR ARMS
AROUND HIS NECK
AND GAZE
WARM AND DEEPLY
IN HIS EYES.
THE PASSION
IN YOUR BROWN EYES
ALONE
COULD HAVE SAVED
ALL OF ROME.
 
                  
 
        PURPLE MARTINS   #1 & #2
 
I SEE HER COMING DOWN THE HILL.
I WAIT AT THE LITTLE WHITE HOUSE.
A WHITE '64 CHEVY ROARS DOWN THE STREET,
A FLOCK OF PURPLE MARTINS SCATTER.
SHE WALKS IN THE SPACE UNDER THEIR HALO,
SEES ME ON THE PORCH AND FLASHES HER SHY SMILE.
 
THE PURPLE MARTINS SWOOP OVER THE RED SHED.
THERE WILL BE A FULL MOON TONIGHT.
THE SKY IS CLEAR AND COLD.
I GO INSIDE THE WHITE HOUSE,
SHE IS STANDING AT THE KITCHEN SINK.
SHE GRABS MY HAND AND LEADS ME TO THE BEDROOM.
SHE PULLS ME DOWN ON TOP OF HER
AND LOCKS HER LEGS BEHIND MINE.
 
 
                WHITE GUITAR/WHITE MOON
 
THE WHITE GUITAR SPEAKS LOUD & CLEAR,
NO WINE, NO BEER ON A FULL MOON IN MAY.
I'M FEELING OKAY, HEARING THE TELECASTER
STRINGS TWANG, RING, AND POP.
AFTER A YEAR OF SILENCE AGAIN LIFE,
BEAUTIFUL SOUNDS ARE ALL AROUND.
THE HOUSE IS VERY LIVABLE NOW,
AND I'M FEELING OKAY
WITH THE MOON OUTSIDE MY DOORWAY.
 
 
 
 
               RENAISSANCE MAN
 
I AM A RENAISSANCE MAN.
A MAN OF ACTION
A MAN OF PASSION
OF MOTION & EMOTION.
I BELIEVE IN PARTICIPATING
IN ALL ASPECTS OF LIFE.
MENTAL STIMULATION IS NOT ENOUGH.
PHYSICAL STIMULATION IS NOT ENOUGH.
 
I BELIEVE IN MAKING MUSIC
IN BUILDING ONE'S OWN HOUSE
I BELIEVE IN ART   (  SOUL FOOD  )
& GAZING AT THE STARS IN THE NIGHT.
MY FRIEND SAYS HE CAN SEE THE EARTH ROLL
& HEAR THE GRASS GROW.  I BELIEVE HIM.
I BELIEVE MEN MEAN TO DO GOOD
IN THE WORLD, AND I BELIEVE WOMEN
TRY TO DO WHAT IS BEST TOO.
I AM A RENAISSANCE MAN.
 
 
 
                 THIS THING KEEPS ROLLING ALONG
                     (SORT OF LIKE A FRENCH MOVIE)
 
WALKING AROUND HIGH MUSEUM
ON A MID WINTER MONDAY AFTERNOON
GLEAMING WHITE & GLASS
A FRIEND SAYS IT LOOKS
LIKE THE INSIDE OF A PUBLIC TOILET
BUT I LIKE IT.  INTERNATIONAL.
CHRISTINE SAYS SHE'LL COME BACK
SOMEDAY WHEN IT'S OPEN.
"UH HUH," I SAY JOKINGLY.
"SO YOU CAN FIND
ANOTHER COCK TO SUCK."
(WE MET AT MOMA IN NEW YAWK.)
SHE SMILES HER MONA LISA SMILE.
 
THROUGH FIELDS.  I UP AHEAD ON A HILL
GRASSES HAVE MOSTLY TURNED BROWN.
DOWN BELOW SHE CROSSES A BRIDGE
WALKS ACROSS OLD GOLF COURSE.
SHE TAKES HIGH ROAD, FOLLOWING
THE RAILROAD TRACKS.  I GO DOWN
A PATH & LOOK UP. CUTTING DIFFERENT
LINES TROUGH SPACE.
TWO JOGGERS COME BETWEEN US.
SHE'S WEARING OLD POINTY SUNGLASSES
& HEAVY BROWN JUNKY COAT.
BLACK STOCKING & SHOES.
HER BLACK HAIR SHINES IN THE SUNLIGHT.
LIKE A FRENCH MOVIE.
SHE SMILES HER MONA LISA SMILE.
 
I WANDER MY OWN WAY PAST
OLD CLUBHOUSE OF PIEDMONT
GOLF COURSE. STONE STRUCTURE
DILAPIDATED  &  VANDALIZED.
I THINK OF MY UNCLE WHO USED
TO RUN THE CLUBHOUSE.
UNCLE JIMMY NOT THE SAME THESE DAYS.
IN A HOME, GRABBING NURSES' ASSES
AND PLAYING HIS HARMONICA.
COME TO THINK OF IT,
HE HASN'T CHANGED MUCH AT ALL.
 
 
 
AROUND JAPANESE GARDEN
BONSAI, FENCES MADE OF BAMBOO,
STANDS OF RUSH AMONG THE TREES.
"CONTEMPLATION HOUSE",
SEATS OF SAWED OFF TREE TRUNKS,
THE FLOOR IS CROSS SECTIONED
PIECES OF TREE, EACH ROUND
DISC 3 INCHES THICK.
ECONOMY OF BUILDING
EVERY PIECE OF BAMBOO
INCLUDING THE SMALLEST SHOOTS
USED IN MAKING THE GARDEN GATES.
 
WE LAY BY THE LAKE
IN THE SUN. TALK ABOUT
OUR RELATIONSHIP WHICH
HAS STEADILY BEEN DETERIORATING
FOR YEARS. A BLACK GUY
COMES BY WITH A STRINGER
OF FISH, GOLD CARP HE HAS CAUGHT.
WE DECIDE TO STOP COMPLAINING
& TRYING TO CHANGE EACH OTHER
& ACCEPT THE WAY WE BOTH ARE.
WE MIGHT AS WELL START AT ROCK BOTTOM
AND SAY "YES" INSTEAD OF "NO",
CAUSE THIS THINGS KEEPS ROLLING ALONG.
 
BUT NEITHER ONE OF US IS GOING TO CHANGE.
 
 
 
 
                    
 BALL FOUR
 
BOGEY RATTLES HIS BALLS.
"BAAALLL!" BELLOWS THE UMPIRE.
BETTY BOOP TAKES A WALK
HIKES DOWN CITY STREETS.
THE CAMERA SHOT IS FROM
A HELICOPTER, RISES ABOVE
THE BUILDINGS, PANS THE CITISCAPE,
AND FOCUSES DOWN ON HER.
SHE CROSSES THE TRACKS,
CONTINUES ON  WHERE
THE RUBBLE OF THE STREETS
AND THE GARDENS MEET.
THE SUN REFLECTS ON A PILE
OF BROKEN RED GLASS,
&THE WORLD IS FILLED
WITH RUBY COLORED LIGHT.
THE UMP CLICKS HIS COUNTER.
SHE GOES INTO AN OLD BOMBED
OUT CLUB, A BLACK HOLE
NEXT DOOR TO
A USED CADILLAC LOT.
LOUIS GOSSETT JR.WITH HIS HEAD WAXED
AND HIS ARMS GLISTENING, SCREAMS DOWN
AT HER: "BAAALL   THHRREEE!"
"OKAY, OKAY," SHE SAYS, RAISING
HER HANDS DEFENSIVELY & SHRINKING
AWAY FROM HIS  GALE.
LOUNGE LIZARDS LURK
IN THE SHADOWS
PICKING BONES CLEAN.
A RAP BAND PLAYS,
THE SINGER IS FAT
& DRESSED LIKE AN UMPIRE.
"BALL FOUR!" HE EXPLODES.
"BALL FOR WHO?  AND JUST HOW MANY?"
BETTY BOOP ASKS QUITE EXASPERATED
AND TIRED OF PEOPLE HOLLERING IN HER EARS.
 
 
 
 
 
                                       CINDERELLA  & THE NUN
 
CARNIVAL LIGHTS, RED GREEN AND GOLD, ARE STRUNG
ACROSS THE ROOM. THE BAND PLAYS, PLENTY OF BRASS
AND PLENTY OF GLASSES OF BOOZE AND PEOPLE FALLING
ON THE FLOOR FOR A LITTLE DRUNKEN SNOOZE. A REAL
HUMDINGER, THE WHOLE SHEBANG, LOTS OF PUNCH AND
A HUNCH THAT YOU WILL SHOW. CINDERELLA & THE NUN
ARE STANDING IN A PINK ROOM. I GO IN. CINDERELLA
LICKS HER LIPS, BATS HER EYELIDS, BENEATH HER PINK
CREPE DRESS & UNDERPANTS SHE'S WET, I CAN ATTEST,
I TAKE A FINGER TEST, DROP MY PANTS. SHE JUMPS,
HER LEGS WRAP AROUND MY HIPS, HER MOUTH SUCKS MINE
WE TUMBLE TO THE FLOOR, MEANWHILE THE HAIRLIPPED NUN
LOOKS ON DOESN'T SEEM TO MIND, ASKS HER FRIEND CINDY
FOR THE TIME. IN ANOTHER ROOM I CATCH UP WITH NUNSIE,
SHE'S TALLER'N ME STANDS STOICALLY. I KISS HER, HIKE
HER BLACK DRESS & THRUST MY HAND UNDER HER PANTIES
AND FEEL HER ASS, SHE SAYS TAKE YOUR HAND OUT OF
THERE I SAY OK & SHE JUST STARES, PUSHES ME BACK ON
THE CANOPY BED & BITES MY LIP TILL I BLEED, TEARS AT
MY PANTS & PUMMELS ME ON TOP, RIPS HER BODICE OPEN
DRESS STILL ON TREMBLES HISSING "FUCK ME FUCK ME
FUCK ME."  MY EYES ARE WIDE & MY COCK ROCK HARD.
SHE'S MUMBLING SOMETHING ABOUT KANT & MARTIN BUBER,
I/THOU I/THOU I/THOU, I GUESS IT  TO BE ROOTED IN
SOME OBSCURE RHYTHMIC PELVIC THRUST MYSTICISM,
SO I SAY , "HEY. YOU'RE GETTING TOO PHILOSOPHICAL."
SHE SLIPS OUT OF HER TRANCE FOR A MINUTE, LOOKS AT ME
THEN SLAPS ME ACROSS THE FACE, AND CONTINUES.
I PASS OUT ON THE BED ,WAKE NEXT MORNING, AND YOU,
AH, YOU, YOU DID SHOW UP AFTER ALL, YOU'RE GIVING
ME HEAD, BANDAGE MY BRAIN WITH A COLD TOWEL, TELL
ME TO RELAX, AND THEN OFF YOU GO. I GET UP,  MY HEAD
SPLITTING TO CHINA, AND GLANCE OUT OF THE WINDOW.
AM I A FOOL, OR IS THE GUY NEXT DOOR HANGING HIMSELF
& HIS DOBERMANS IN THE KITCHEN WINDOW? "HEY MAN, I'M
A LONG WAY FROM WHERE I BEGAN!"  I SHOUT WITH DRUNKEN
BRAVADO FROM WINDOW TO WINDOW, BUT HE ISN'T LISTENING,  
NOT YET.  "I'LL GET HIM TO LISTEN," I THINK. I BANG ON A PAN,
RATTLE ON A DRUM, JUMP UP & DOWN STAMP & HOLLER
ALL AROUND BUT STILL NOT A WORD. I GO TO HIS BACK DOOR,
AND PUSH IT OPEN AND WALK IN. HE'S HANGING THERE,
HIS DOBERMANS TOO. I POKE & I PROD AND EXAMINE HIS
EYES, NO SIGN IS FORTHCOMING, NO SIGN OF LIFE AT ALL.
"HE'S DEAD,"  I CONCLUDE AND DEAD IS DEAD, THERE'S
NO TWO WAYS ABOUT IT. YOU'RE ALIVE OR YOUR DEAD
OR YOU'RE THE LIVING DEAD, OR SOMETIMES THE DEAD ALIVE
IN THE MEMORY OF A MAN'S MIND. BUT I DON'T CARE
TO THINK SO MUCH, NOW THAT I'M ALIVE, AND WHAT DO
I KNOW I'M STILL SO DRUNK I'M BLIND. BUT EVEN WHEN
DRUNK, I MAKE MORE SENSE THAN MOST.
 
 
 
FOR DAYS I LISTENED & WATCHED
THE DOBERMANS CLAWING THE WINDOWS
IN THE HOUSE NEXT DOOR.
THEY WERE TRYING TO GET OUT
& THEN ONE DAY I REALIZED WHY.
AT  FIRST I SCRATCHED MY HEAD,
AND ASKED MYSELF IS THAT MAN
HANGING HIMSELF & HIS DOBERMANS
IN THE KITCHEN WINDOW?
"HEY, MAN, I'M A LONG WAY
FROM WERE I BEGAN,"
I SHOUT, BUT  HE ISN'T LISTENING,
NOT YET. I'LL GET HIM TO LISTEN
I DECIDE. I THROW HIS BACK DOOR OPEN,
AND START CIRCLING AROUND HIM.
I BANG ON A PAN, RATTLE A DRUM,
JUMP UP AND DOWN, STAMP AND HOLLER
ALL AROUND BUT STILL NOT A WORD.
I POKE & I PROD
& PUSH OPEN HIS EYES,
BUT NO SIGN IS FORTHCOMING,
NO SIGN OF LIFE AT ALL.
"HE'S DEAD," I CONCLUDE AND
DEAD IS DEAD, NO TWO WAYS ABOUT IT.
YOU'RE ALIVE OR YOUR DEAD
OR YOU ARE THE LIVING DEAD
OR SOMETIME THE DEAD ALIVE
IN THE MEMORY OF A MAN'S MIND.
BUT I DON'T CARE TO THINK SO MUCH,
NOW WHILE I'M ALIVE.
 
 
 
 
 
                                                               WILD INDIAN DRIFT
 
 
                              I'M LIKE A WILD INDIAN
                            DRIFTING THROUGH THIS CONFUSING WORLD.
                           LYING ON THE FLOOR LOOKING UP
                           WHITE GUITAR IN THE CORNER.
                           READY TO GO WITH THE DAYLIGHT
                           DON'T KNOW WHAT TOMORROW MEANS.
                           ACCEPT THE ENVIRONMENT AROUND ME
                           WILL BE BUILDING HOUSES SOON.
                           OR WRITING A POEM,
                           MAYBE PLAYING THAT WHITE GUITAR.
                            STARS FAR AWAY- SOMETIMES
                            CLOSE ENOUGH TO TOUCH
                            THEY DON'T BURN THEY GLOW
                            ALBACORE WHITE STARFISH LOW
                            AND THEY DON'T TALK TOO MUCH.
                      
                         1986
 
 
 
 
 
                                              SMASHED EARLY
            
                                   PEACHTREE PLAZA
                           CHRISTINE & I
                             GLASS ELEVATOR RIDE ON
                               OUTSIDE OF BUILDING
                           CHRISTINE CLINGING IN
                                  A DREAD PANIC TO THE SIDE
                           UP 72 STORIES IN
                                    A PORTMAN  SLIDE
                           REVOLVING COCKTAILS AT THE
                             SUNDIAL -
                                    SUNDOWN  SUNSET OVER
                                              ATLANTA
                                    OUR SUNGLASSES APPEAR
                                & WE'RE SMASHED BY 5 O'CLOCK
                                FEAST ON TACOS AT BUFFET
                               LUTE MUSIC APPEARS & WE ARE ASKED
                                                      TO LEAVE
                                    JUMPING UP & DOWN ON
                                  THE GLASS RIDE DOWN
                              LYING ON THE FLOOR & SPINNING
 
                                       HOME & OUT TO RIVER
                                         WITH CHRIS
                                     MARK'S ON THE RADIO
                                                 PLAYING NY DOLLS
                                                 "MEANWHILE BACK IN
                                                           THE JUNGLE
                                                   MEANWHILE BACK IN
                                                          THE STATES"
                                           WE'VE GOT A BATTERY CABLE
                                              ATTACHED TO CANOE
                                           ON TOP OF VAN---
                                             THE WHOLE CANOE
                                              IS THE ANTENNA
                                             RECEPTION TO PICK UP
                                  JONNY M'S BOP STREET
                                        WE STOP OCCASIONALLY & CALL
                                        HIM,    HE'S LEAVING
                                MESSAGES TO US IN RADIO
                                  WAVES AS WE HEAD TO THE RIVER
                                "HUM,  SOME PEOPLE
                                              HAVE ALL THE LUCK."
 
 
                                      CANOE OUT ON THE RIVER
                                     BEAVERS SPLASH ALL AROUND
                                   THERE'S A FULL MOON BUT THE
                                     MIST IS SO THICK YOU CAN
                                   BARELY SEE THE TREES ON BANKS
                                    WE BOMBARD THE WATER
                                     WITH CHICKEN MEAT---
                                           WE CAN'T CATCH A THING
                                     NO  WONDER        FISH ARE ALL THINKING
                                  WHAT THE HELL IS ALL THIS CHICKEN MEAT
                                        LETS GET OUT OF HERE
                                      MEANWHILE AROUND THE BEND
                                           BIG BLUE FLASH
                                            FOLLOWED BY A LOW
                                                W      H    O    O   S     H-----
                                                           "THAT'S  WHAT THEY'RE
                                         DOING, THEY'RE BOMBING
                                             THE FISH!"    CHRIS MUSES.
 
 
                                                  
 
 
                                 HEAR THE TIRES SQUEAL
 
                                DUSTY GOT BUSTED  HA! HA!
                                HOLDING A LOT OF POT
                                KNOW HE'S DISGUSTED
                                HAVING TO MAKE IT UP
 
                               GOT ON HIS MIND
                               A YELLOW CRYSTAL MINE
                               WHERE HE CAN MAKE A LOTTA CASH
                                ALL AT ONE TIME
                                DON'T YOU KNOW THERE'S A LOTTA SMOKE
                                & HEAR HIS TIRES SQUEAL
 
                              NEAL DONE GOT TOO GOOD FOR THE WORLD
                              BOXED HIMSELF INTO A CORNER
                              IF HE THINKS HE'S GOING TO MAKE IT TO 96 ROCK
                             HE'S GOT ANOTHER THING COMING
 
                            AND I'M JUST WAITING ON YOUR PHONE CALL
                            AND WHEN IT DOES YOU KNOW  YOU'LL
                            HEAR THE TIRES SQUEAL
 
 
                            PETE JUST TOOK A RIDE
                           ON THE ORIENT EXPRESS
                           HAD TO KEEP UP WITH HIS EXPENSE ACCOUNT
                           ALRIGHT HE SAID DOM PERIGNOM   FOR ALL
                           LET'S SEE HOW MUCH THE MOTHER FUCKER HOLDS
                           HALFWAY THRU SIBERIA YOU KNOW YOU
                           HEAR THE WHEELS SQUEAL
 
 
  
 
 
 
                                       ACROSS THE WORLD
                    
                         ACROSS THE WORLD
                         IN JAPAN
                      ( IN A TEAHOUSE OF SIMPLE BAMBOO
                        RICE PAPER RECTANGLES AND THIN MAHOGANY TILE)
                        IN INDIA
                        IN EUROPE
                       AND THE PELOPONNESE
                       PEOPLE ARE RELAXING IN THER HOMES.
                      
                        I HAVE A SMALL HOME TOO
                       AND I  AM CONTENT
                        WITH MY HAND MADE TABLE
                        (ODD PIECES OF WOOD, SOME LONG
                         SOME WIDE, PINE MOSTLY
                         WITH TWO ROWS OF CHERRY CHECKER
                         SQUARES RUNNING SOMEWHAT
                         DOWN THE MIDDLE)
                        
                         AND
                         I AM HAPPY TO HAVE
                         A LITTLE WINE.
 
                         BUT THE SOURCE OF MY PLEASURE
                         IS THE WOMAN WHO SHARES
                         THE EVENING HOURS WITH ME.
                         WE TALK AT RANDOM,
                         SHE WASHES CLOTHES
                         WHILE I CONSTRUCT THE TABLE.
                          I CAN NOT TELL YOU
                         HOW WONDERFUL SHE IS.
 
 
 
 
 
 
                                             THE RAPTURE KID
 
THE RAPTURE KID RAPS ON MY DOOR
TELLING ME HOW THE WORLD IS GOING TO END.
"I DON'T KNOW ..." I SAY. "YOU'RE ON ONE SIDE
OR THE OTHER!"  SHE SAYS, "WELL..." I SAY.
"DON'T HESITATE," SHE SAYS, "WE ONLY
HAVE TIME FOR THE TRUTH."
AND I WAS WONDERING WHAT IT WOULD TAKE
TO MAKE THE WORLD RIGHT,  AND WHOSE RIGHT
IS RIGHT ANYWAY. SOMETHING WAS SAYING TO ME
"BEWARE! DON'T BE TOO QUICK TO DECLARE
WHAT YOU BELIEVE, BECAUSE THERE ARE MANY VERSIONS
OF THE TRUTH."  BUT I DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING, INSTEAD
I THOUGHT ABOUT ALL THE THINGS I DIDN'T KNOW ABOUT HER THAT MADE HER CHANGE SO DRASTICALLY. I'LL ADMIT, I FELT BAD
THAT SHE HAD CHANGED. I KIND OF LIKED THE OLD CHAN
WITH HER WIDE ARABIAN EYES AND THICK BLACK CURLY MANE,
& HER LONG WHITE BODY SUSPENDED OVER ME LIKE A MATISSE CUT OUT,  
HER FULL RED MOUTH COMING EVER CLOSER TO MINE.
 BUT I GUESS IT FIGURES I'D MISS THAT.
I'D SEEN PERSONALITY CHANGES BEFORE BUT NEVER ONE SO
COMPLETE. BUT EARLIER.....
 
STANDING IN A PHONE BOOTH SOMEWHERE DOWN ON NEBULA PLACE,
SHE SPARKLED SO MUCH I COULD ALMOST SEE HER,
LONG DISTANCE COMMUNICATION COMING THROUGH THE NIGHT,
CALLING ALL THE NUMBERS SPREADING HER TRUE WHITE LIGHT,
COSMIC CONNECTION, PROPHESYING THE DIRECTION,
LEAD OR FOLLOW AS YOU MAY.
 
 
                        
                                          
 
                                            THE RAPTURE KID
 
THE RAPTURE KID RAPS ON MY DOOR
TELLING ME HOW THE WORLD IS GOING TO END.
"I DON'T KNOW..."  I SAY.  "YOU'RE ON ONE SIDE
OR THE OTHER!"  SHE SAYS. "WELL..."  I SAY.
"DON'T HESITATE," SHE SAYS, "WE ONLY
HAVE TIME FOR THE TRUTH."
AND I WAS WONDERING WHAT IT WOULD TAKE
TO MAKE THE WORLD RIGHT, AND WHOSE RIGHT
IS RIGHT ANYWAY. SOMETHING WAS SAYING TO ME
"BEWARE!  DON'T BE TOO QUICK TO DECLARE
WHAT YOU BELIEVE, BECAUSE THERE ARE MANY VERSIONS
OF THE TRUTH."  BUT I DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING, INSTEAD
I THOUGHT ABOUT ALL THE THINGS I KNEW AND ALL
THE THINGS I DIDN'T KNOW ABOUT HER THAT MADE HER
CHANGE SO DRASTICALLY. I'LL ADMIT, I FELT BAD
THAT SHE HAD CHANGED.  I KIND OF LIKED THE OLD CHAN
WITH HER WIDE ARABIAN EYES AND THICK BLACK CURLY MANE,
& HER LONG WHITE BODY SUSPENDED OVER ME LIKE A MATISSE CUTOUT,
HER FULL RED MOUTH ENVELOPING MY COCK & HER WET VAGINA
LOWERED ONTO MY MOUTH. BUT I GUESS IT FIGURES I'D MISS THAT.
I'D SEEN PERSONALITY CHANGES BEFORE BUT NEVER ONE SO
COMPLETE.        BUT EARLIER...
 
STANDING IN A PHONE BOOTH SOMEWHERE DOWN ON NEBULA PLACE,
SHE SPARKLED SO MUCH I COULD ALMOST SEE HER,
LONG DISTANCE COMMUNICATION COMING THROUGH THE NIGHT,
CALLING ALL THE NUMBERS SPREADING HER TRUE WHITE LIGHT,
COSMIC CONNECTION, PROPHESYING THE DIRECTION,
LEAD OR FOLLOW AS YOU MAY.
 
                A  FOG  HORN                                                          LIKE  SIGNS
 
                FROM THE DOCKS                                            NAILED TO TREES
 
                RICHOCHETED DOWN BLOCKS                   ALONG THE ROADSIDE
 
                INTO MY EAR,                                                          IN THE SOUTH, SAYING:
 
                THE MESSAGE WAS CLEAR:                                            JESUS
 
                 LIVE THE RIGHT WAY TODAY.                                              IS
 
                                                                                                                    IS THE WAY.
 
 
BUT I DIDN'T LISTEN, INSTEAD I WENT DOWN TO THE BEACH
AND MET AN OLD MAN THERE WHO TOLD ME OF A CORRIDOR
UNDER THE OCEAN AND ASKED ME IF I'D LIKE TO GO.
I SAID, "WELL, WHY NOT?"  YOU SEE I HAD A VISION
OF A CORAL REEF THAT WAS A BEAUTIFUL CITY WITH TWELVE
WIDE ROADS LEADING THERE, AND I THOUGHT IT MIGHT BE INHABITED
BY A PEOPLE WHOSE SENSITIVITY AND POWERS OF UNDERSTANDING
WERE DEVELOPED FAR BEYOND OURS.  AND MAYBE A WOMAN WOULD
BE THERE TO GREET ME, IN A WHITE ROBE, WITH THE POWER OF SUNS
IN HER EYES AND WHOSE TOUCH WOULD OVERWHELM AND SHOCK ME
WITH SENSATIONS.  A WOMAN WHO COMPREHENDED ALL THAT IS KNOWN
AND ALL THAT IS UNKNOWN.
 
 
 
HOW WAS I TO KNOW THAT IT WOULD LEAD AND LEAVE ME LYING HERE
ON THE BASEMENT FLOOR, IN A BACKUP UP SEWAGE PLUMBING FLOOD
OF A WORLD GONE MAD FOR DIAMONDS AND FADS AND BMWS,
DRIPPING WET AND AGONIZED,
WHILE OTHERS LESS FOOLISH ARE CANONIZED,
UNTIL I FINALLY REALIZED HOW FOOLISH
IT IS TO THINK ONE HAS FOUND THE WAY.
 
 
 
 
 LIKE VAN GOGH!
 
I SAW A GIRL SHE WAS WALKING DOWN THE STREET
SHE WAS THE KIND OF GIRL I ALWAYS  WANTED TO MEET
SHE HAD POUTY LIPS AND SHAPELY HIPS
AND SEXY LEGS THAT MOVED FROM EAST TO WEST
 
I WAS SURPRISED WHEN SHE SMILED
LIKE MONA LISA SMILED
 
WE WERE HAVING A GOOD TIME EVERYTHING WAS GOING FINE
WE EVEN HAD A COUPLE OF QUARTS OF WINE
THE DAY ZOOMED BY I WAS FEELING SKY HIGH
BY THE WAY WE JUST GOT ALONG SO WELL
 
SHE SAID I WAS SPECIAL
SHE SAID SHE COULD TELL
 
SHE TOOK ME TO HER HOUSE LATER THAT NIGHT
BUT WHEN WE WENT INTO THE BEDROOM SOMETHING DIDN'T SEEM RIGHT
THERE  WERE LITTLE GREEN GLOWS AND A SMELL THAT WAS NO DELIGHT
 
SO I REACHED OUT       & I CLICKED ON THE LIGHT
 
THERE WERE RATTLESNAKES & COPPERHEADS
A BIG BOA CONSTRICTOR WAS ON THE BED
THYE WERE HISSIN & SHAKIN & RATTLIN AROUND
 
I TELL YOU       IT WAS A CRAZY SOUND
 
WOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOHOHOHOHOOOHHHH
DRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEET DRRRRREEET   CAH! CAH!
(IN OTHER WORDS, BASIC JUNGLE NOISES)
I SAID BABY             I'VE GOT TO GO!
 
I WENT DOWN TO THE LOCALBAR
JUST TO TRY AND CLEAR MY HEAD
WHEN A GIRL WALKED UP TO ME
& SAID HELLO & ASKED ME IF I WANTED TO GO TO BED
 
BUT WHEN SHE SMILED LIKE MONA LISA
 
I SAID NO! NO WAY! I FEEL LIKE VAN GOGH!
OH NO!    THE ROOM'S A YELLOW GLOW!
OH NO!     JUST LIKE VINCENT VAN GOGH......
 
 
 
 
THE RAINBOW SIDEWALK
 
I FOLLOWED HER
DOWN THE RAINBOW SIDEWALK
AND ENDED IN A DREAM
OF CREAM POURING
IN A COFFEE SHOP CUP.
 
CAREFULLY I CROSSED STEEL GIRDERS WITH HER,
LIKE AN INDIAN WITH A TREMENDOUS SENSE OF BALANCE,
WALKING ON BEAMS BETWEEN THE CLOUDS,
BUT I FOUND MY MOVEMENTS WERE GEOMETRIC.
I COULD ONLY GO SO FAR,THEN TURN,
STRADDLING SPACE AT THE CORNERS,
REPEAT THE DISTANCE AND THEN TURN AGAIN,
PERPETUALLY COMPLETING THE SIDES OF A RECTANGLE.
 
YOU SEE, I WAS STILL ALIVE
AND THE LIVING CAN ONLY DO SO MUCH.
 
THEN SHE KISSED A TIGER.
I PASSED ON THAT ONE,
ALLOWING SOMEONE ELSE
TO MAKE THE MACHO MISTAKE.
 
 
DID SHE EXIST?
DOES ANYTHING EXIST? I FOOLISHLY WONDER NOW.
 
 
"LOGICALLY, THAT'S RIDICULOUS,"  PARMENIDES TOLD ME
TODAY JUST AS THE D TRIAN TO CONEY ISLAND SURFACED
AND THE EXCITMENT OF WIDE SKY QUIETED ALL OF US,
AND HIS VOICE COULD BE HEARD THROUGHOUT THE CAR, SAYING:
"'IT IS, AND MUST BE.' TO SAY  'IT IS NOT' IS UNTHINKABLE",
 
 
BUT IT'S A CRUCIAL CONSIDERATION
WHEN YOU'RE LOST, LONELY AND CONFUSED.
 
 
 
 
FERRIS WHEEL# 1
 
"I AM THE GREAT PRETENDER"  REVERBERATES
FROM THE BONE WHITE PAINT THICK AS SYRUP
ON THE OLD PLASTER WALLS AND PANELED DOORS.
OUTSIDE THE TRUCK KEEPS ITS MOTOR RUNNING,
IDLING LIKE A CAT ON A HOT JUNGLE DAY
TOO WASTED BY THE HEAT TO MOVE.
POP MUSIC, SODA POP, POPCORN, POP TARTS,
MOM & POP, POP TOP, POP POP, GUM POP,
POP OF HAMMERS AS JAMAICAN CARPENTERS
RESTORE LIFE TO AN OLD BUILDING.
POP OF CAPILLARIES AS MY BRAIN HEMORRHAGES,
BUT THE FLOW OF BLOOD FEELS GOOD,
AND THE EXCESS IS YOUR ENTERTAINMENT,
YOUR CIRCUS ,YOUR CARNIVAL, SO RIDE
THE FERRIS WHEEL TIL YOU WANT TO GET OFF.
 
 
    
 
 
 
                                  
 
                               FERRIS WHEEL # 2
 
 
HARRY THE CIRCUS MAN OPENS THE GATE
LOCKS THE BAR OVER YOUR LAP WHILE YOU WAIT.
RAP MUSIC PLAYS WHILE YOU TAKE YOUR SEAT
ON AND ON IN THE SUMMER HEAT.
WITH A SQUEAKY GRIND THE WHITE WHEEL OF IRON
BEGINS AND TAKES YOU TO THE HEIGHTS
AH, LOOK AT THE CITY,  DIAMOND DELIGHTS
FREE FALLING  & THE STREETS COME UP TO MEET YOU.
SUDDENLY, WITH NO TIME FOR A PRAYER,
FROM IT'S BASE THE GREAT WHITE WHEEL TEARS,
& YOU & YOUR MATES ARE OFF & ROLLING DOWNTOWN
TALKING  COSMIC KARMA TIME TO BREAK DOWN.
 
I'M TALKING FERRIS WHEEL UN HUH.
ALL THE GREAT WHITE WHEELS & THE WHEELS OF FORTUNE,
AND THE WHEELS OF MY LIFE & THE WHEELS OF THE UNIVERSE.
WHEELS AND WHEELS AND WHEELS AND WHEELS... SPIN
 
NOW PLAYING IN THE FIRE HYDRANT STREAM
"MIRA! MIRA!" THE KIDS ALL SCREAM.
& YOU LAUGH TO KEEP FROM CRYING
FROM THE WORLD WOBBLING ROUND
YOU GO DOWN TO THE GROUND
AND QUICKLY SWEPT AROUND.
 
DO THE FERRIS WHEEL.
D-D-D-DO THE FERRIS WHEEL.
 
WELL THE WHEEL TURNS ON
AND ON  AND ON IT,
YOU CAN'T KEEP UP WITH THE SENSATIONS
SO YOU MIGHT AS WELL ENJOY IT.
AND IF YOU FAINT AND BECOME UNCONSCIOUS,
IT STILL DOESN'T STOP, SO WHY BE SELF - CONSCIOUS.
I'M TALKING FERRIS WHEEL, UN HUH.
 
 
 
FERRIS WHEEL # 2
DHARMA CHAKRA
 
HARRY THE OLD CIRCUS MAN OPENS THE GATE
LET'S YOU IN, LOCKS THE BAR WHILE YOU WAIT.
RAP MUSIC PLAYS AS YOU TAKE YOUR SEAT,
ON AND ON IN THE SUMMER HEAT.
WITH A SQUEAKY GRIND THE FERRIS WHEEL OF IRON
BEGINS AND TAKES YOU TO THE HEIGHTS
AH, LOOK AT THE CITY, DIAMOND DELIGHT,
FREEFALLING, AND THE STREETS COME UP TO MEET YOU.
SUDDENLY, WITH NO TIME FOR A PRAYER,
FROM IT'S BASE THE GREAT WHEEL TEARS,
AND YOU & YOUR MATES ARE OFF AND ROLLING DOWNTOWN
CALL IT COSMIC KARMA TIME TO BREAK IT DOWN.
"MIRA! MIRA !" THE KIDS ALL SCREAM.
PLAYING IN THE FIRE HYDRANT STREAM.
YOU LAUGH TO KEEP FROM CRYING
FROM THE WORLD WOBBLING ROUND
YOU GO DOWN TO THE GROUND
QUICKLY SWEPT AROUND.
 
WELL THE WHEEL TURNS ON
AND ON AND ON IT
YOU CAN'T KEEP UP WITH THE SENSATIONS
SO YOU MIGHT AS WELL ENJOY IT.
AND IF YOU FAINT & BECOME UNCONSCIOUS,
IT STILL DOESN'T STOP, SO WHY BE SELF-CONSCIOUS?
I'M TALKING FERRIS WHEEL, UN HUH.
 
DHARMA CHAKRA,
ETERNAL WHEEL OF LAW AND RIGHTEOUSNESS,
DETERMINES ALL.
 
  
 
                            
 
SOLUTION TO BEING
 
BLACK TREES SWIRLING UP DIZZILY
FROM GRAY HEXAGONAL GROUND.
WROUGHT IRON GATES
CLICK ZOETROPESQUE
THE RED BRICK QUAKER BUILDING
BRUSQUE BLUE SKY SMEAR
 
I WALK ALONG  -  THINKING OF
TIME PAST, TIME FUTURE
ACCEPTING THE CADENCES OF TODAY
GREEN BENCHES CURVE OFF FAST
IN THE DISTANCE  CHIMES BELLS
THERE IS SUCH LONELINESS IN
THE PEOPLE'S EYES
BUT I AM NOT LONELY
KNOWING THERE IS NO SOLUTION
TO MY BEING
 
 
 
 
                     SOLUTION TO BEING
 
Black trees swirling up dizzily
from gray hexagonal ground
wrought iron gates
click zoetropesque
the red brick Quaker building
brusque blue sky smear
 
I walk along - thinking of
time past, time future
accepting the cadences of today
green benches curve off fast
in the distance   chimes bells
there is such loneliness in
the people's eyes
But I am not lonely
knowing there is no solution
to my being
 
 
 
 
           SOLUTION TO BEING
 
BLACK TREES SWIRL UP DIZZILY
 
FROM GRAY HEXAGONAL GROUND.
 
A WROUGHT IRON FENCE
 
IS A ZOETROPE CLICKING
 
A RED BRICK QUAKER BUILDING
 
AND BRUSQUE BLUE SKY CUTTING
 
INTO HIPS AND VALLEYS OF ROOF.
 
 
I WALK ALONG THINKING OF TIME PAST,
 
TIME FUTURE, ACCEPTING THE CADENCES OF TODAY,
 
BUT STILL WONDERING WHAT KEEPS YOU AWAY.
 
GREEN PARK BENCHES CURVE OFF FAST IN THE DISTANCE.
 
CHIMES VIBRATE LINES OF LONELINESS IN PEOPLE'S EYES.
 
BUT I AM NOT LONELY, KNOWING IN THE WHIRLPOOL OF CITIES
 
IN COUNTRY PONDS, IN ME OR EVEN IN YOUR EYES
 
THERE IS NO SOLUTION TO BEING.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
       HOLE IN MY HEAD/ LIKE ELIJAH SKYWARD
 
 
A DEAD WHITE PIGEON IN A BRIEFCASE.
 
A PAIR OF WINGTIPS DISCARDED ON THE SIDEWALK.
 
A WEEPING WILLOW BY A NIGHTCLUB 8BC.
 
STRANGE HAIR AND A PLETHORA OF LEOPARD SKIN
 
A BACKDROP OF AVANT GARDE PAINTINGS
 
AND THE ORDINAIRES AND JUS GREW ORCHESTRA
 
STRANGE MELDINGS OF EASTERN & WESTERN MUSICS
 
INTO DISJOINTED AND OVERWHELMING JAZZ.
 
A SPIKE THROUGH THE SKULL CAN CHANGE A MAN'S MIND.
 
MAKE HIM SEE THINGS A LITTLE DIFFERENTLY.
 
WE HAVE ALL HAD OUR SHARE OF DAMAGE.
 
WE ALL HAVE OUR DREAMS UNATTAINABLE.
 
BUT WE GO ON, CONVINCING OURSELVES
 
ALL THE WHILE SOMEHOW WE ARE BETTER FOR IT,
 
MORE MATURE, LEARNING FROM OUR MISTAKES.
 
BUT WE ARE NEVER THE SAME.
 
FROM ONE MOMENT TO THE NEXT THERE IS CHANGE.
 
IT WILL DRIVE YOU NUTS TO TRY AND KEEP UP
 
WITH YOURSELF.   DALI ON INSANITY:
 
"THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN AN INSANE PERSON
 
AND MYSELF IS THAT I AM NOT INSANE."
 
 
 
WHITE HEAT, CELESTIAL LIGHT,
 
SHINES INTO THE HOLE IN MY HEAD,
 
DOWN TO MY COCCYX BONE.
 
TRANSMISSIONS OF BEING FROM ONE SIDE
 
TO THE OTHER OCCUR CONSTANTLY,
 
BLOOD RIVER FLOW TO SCORCHING SAND OF SKIN
 
AND BLUE EYE, MOIST LIVING JEWEL, IRIS,
 
TRANSFIXED ON DELIGHT, REFRACTING PICTURES
 
UPSIDE DOWN ON CORNEA RODS AND CONES
 
LIKE A CAMERA OF A WORLD SEEN AND LOST,
 
LOST IS THE DEAD PIGEON IN THE BRIEFCASE
 
LOST ARE THE WINGTIPS DISCARDED ON THE SIDEWALK,
 
SWIRLED UP ALONG WITH A PEOPLE MAGAZINE
 
THROUGH THE HOLE IN MY HEAD LIKE ELIJAH SKYWARD.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
                    THE CLOUD DWELLERS
 
 
SUN UP OVER THE CITY.
 
TURRETS, SPIRES, DOMES
 
APPEAR, A MISTY DREAM.
 
THE DAY BEGINS
 
TUNING UP TO A FOGHORN
 
SOUNDING A PERFECT D LIKE AN OBOE
 
SOMEWHERE OUT ON THE RIVER.
 
LATER THE ORCHESTRA
 
WILL REACH ITS SYMPHONIC CRESCENDO
 
WHEN ALL THE INSTRUMENTS
 
BLAST SKYWARD
 
(SAWS AND BUSES, TRUCKS AND JACKHAMMERS,
 
THE SHOUTS OF CAB DRIVERS AND THE SIRENS OF POLICE,
 
THE RUMBLE & GRIND OF TRAINS
 
AND THE DULL ROAR OF A MILLION AND MORE
 
SHOES TRODDING SIDEWALK AND STEP).
 
BUT FOR NOW, STILL WRAPPED
 
IN THE TRANSLUCENT PLACENTA
 
OF A NEW DAY,
 
TRANQUIL ARE ONE'S THOUGHTS,
 
CALM THE PULSE.
 
 
 
BEFORE ACTION, SOMETIMES MICROSECONDS
 
BEFORE, BEFORE GOOD ACTION (FOR THERE
 
IS BAD ACTION) THERE IS PURE CONTEMPLATION.
 
AND BEFORE THAT DEEP FELT DESIRE.
 
THERE IS ABSORBING AND COMPREHENSION
 
AND ACCEPTANCE OF WHAT EXISTS.
 
THERE IS ALSO THE IMPULSE TO ACT,
 
TO CHANGE WHAT EXISTS.
 
IN THIS WAY THE DAY
 
BEGINS FOR THE CLOUD DWELLERS.
 
 
 
 
                HOLE IN MY HEAD
 
 
A DEAD WHITE PIGEON IN A BRIEFCASE.
A PAIR OF WINGTIPS DISCARDED ON THE SIDEWALK.
A WEEPING WILLOW BY A NIGHTCLUB 8BC.
STRANGE HAIR AND A PLETHORA OF LEOPARD SKIN
A BACKDROP OF AVANT GARDE PAINTINGS
AND THE ORDINAIRES AND JUS GREW ORCHESTRA
STRANGE MELDINGS OF EASTERN & WESTERN MUSICS
INTO DISJOINTED AND OVERWHELMING JAZZ.
A SPIKE THROUGH THE SKULL CAN CHANGE A MAN'S MIND.
MAKE HIM SEE THINGS A LITTLE DIFFERENTLY.
WE HAVE ALL HAD OUR SHARE OF DAMAGE.
WE ALL HAVE OUR DREAMS UNATTAINABLE.
BUT WE GO ON, CONVINCING OURSELVES
ALL THE WHILE SOMEHOW WE ARE BETTER FOR IT,
MORE MATURE, LEARNING FROM OUR MISTAKES.
BUT WE ARE NEVER THE SAME.
FROM ONE MOMENT TO THE NEXT THERE IS CHANGE.
IT WILL DRIVE YOU NUTS TO TRY AND KEEP UP
WITH YOURSELF.   DALI ON INSANITY:
"THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN AN INSANE PERSON
AND MYSELF IS THAT I AM NOT INSANE."
WHITE HEAT, CELESTIAL LIGHT,
SHINES INTO THE HOLE IN MY HEAD,
DOWN TO MY COCCYX BONE.
TRANSMISSIONS OF BEING FROM ONE SIDE
TO THE OTHER OCCUR CONSTANTLY,
BLOOD RIVER FLOW TO SCORCHING SAND OF SKIN
AND BLUE EYE, MOIST LIVING JEWEL, IRIS,
TRANSFIXED ON DELIGHT, REFRACTING PICTURES
UPSIDE DOWN ON CORNEA RODS AND CONES
LIKE A CAMERA OF A WORLD SEEN AND LOST,
LOST IS THE DEAD PIGEON IN THE BRIEFCASE
LOST ARE THE WINGTIPS DISCARDED ON THE SIDEWALK
SWIRLED UP ALONG WITH A PEOPLE MAGAZINE
THROUGH THE HOLE IN MY HEAD LIKE ELIJAH SKYWARD.
 
 
 
 
 
                    THE CLOUD DWELLERS
 
 
SUN UP OVER THE CITY.
TURRETS, SPIRES, DOMES
APPEAR, A MISTY DREAM
THE DAY BEGINS
TUNING UP TO A FOGHORN
SOUNDING A PERFECT D LIKE AN OBOE
SOMEWHERE OUT ON THE RIVER.
LATER THE ORCHESTRA
WILL REACH ITS SYMPHONIC CRESCENDO
WHEN ALL THE INSTRUMENTS
BLAST SKYWARD
(SAWS AND BUSES, TRUCKS AND JACKHAMMERS,
THE SHOUTS OF CAB DRIVERS AND THE SIRENS OF POLICE,
THE RUMBLE & GRIND OF TRAINS
AND THE DULL ROAR OF A MILLION AND MORE
SHOES TRODDING SIDEWALK AND STEP).
BUT FOR NOW, STILL WRAPPED
IN THE TRANSLUCENT PLACENTA
OF A NEW DAY,
TRANQUIL ARE ONE'S THOUGHTS,
CALM THE PULSE
BEFORE ACTION, SOMETIMES MICROSECONDS
BEFORE, BEFORE GOOD ACTION (FOR THERE
IS BAD ACTION) THERE IS PURE CONTEMPLATION.
AND BEFORE THAT DEEP FELT DESIRE.
THERE IS ABSORBING AND COMPREHENSION
AND ACCEPTANCE OF WHAT EXISTS.
THERE IS ALSO THE IMPULSE TO ACT,
TO CHANGE WHAT EXISTS.
IN THIS WAY THE DAY
BEGINS FOR THE CLOUD DWELLERS.
 
 
      
 
 
 
THE CHOICE
 
WILD WINDING ROAD, IN A CAR THEY GO
AROUND VICIOUS MOUNTAIN CURVES,
WHITE BIRCHES BLAZE IN ALL THE GREEN.
WITH WILD THOUGHTS OF PASSION & MARRIAGE,
THEY STOP IN FRONT OF THE SMALL TOWN HALL.
TAKING A DRINK FROM THE BOTTLE OF SCOTCH,
SHE THINKS OF THE CONSEQUENCES, FESTIVE WEDDING,
SEXY HONEYMOON, YEARS INVESTED & POSSIBLE DIVORCE,
HE THINKS OF THE OVERSTUFFED FILE CABINETS
HOLDING THE DOCUMENTATION OF OUR LIVES.
HESITATING, HE TAKES A SWIG FROM THE BOTTLE,
IT SPILLS ON HIS SHIRT & THEY LAUGH.
HE SHIFTS INTO FIRST RESOLUTELY
AND SPEEDS FOR THE SUNLIT ROAD LEADING UP,
LOVE TOO PROFOUND AND PROFANE
AND A LIFE TOO COPIOUS
TO BE CONTAINED
IN A CERTIFICATE.
 
 
 
            THE CHOICE
 
DOWN THE MOUNTAIN ROAD I GO.
A CAR IS A BEAUTIFUL THING
ON THESE ROADS.
BRIGHT BIRCHES BLAZE WOMANLY
IN ALL THE GREEN.
WITH WILD THOUGHTS
OF PASSION & MARRIAGE
I DRIVE TO TOWN HALL.
THROUGH THE WINDOWS
I SEE JOHN GOODMAN
SITTING AT HIS DESK.
WEARILY HE WAVES.
BEHIND HIM ARE THE FILE CABINETS
HOLDING THE COMPLETE DOCUMENTATION
OF OUR LIVES.
HESITATING FOR A MOMENT
I CONSIDER THE POSSIBILITIES,
THEN SHIFT INTO FIRST RESOLUTELY.
I CHOOSE THE SUNLIT ROAD LEADING UP,
LOVE TOO PROFOUND AND LIFE TOO COPIOUS
TO BE CONTAINED IN A DOCUMENT.
 
 
 
 
          CASBAH MAZE
 
BEAUTIFUL CITY, AMAZING & BRIGHT.
SPIRES & SPIRES & SAPPHIRE LIGHT.
WE ARE ALL NOMADS
OF THIS SPLENDID PLACE,
THIS MERGER OF MECCA & DESERT
IN CONCRETE, STONE & GLASS,
WE ARE ALL NOMADS
ON THE FACE OF TIME.
I FEEL CLOSE TO YOU,
YOU ARE ALWAYS WITH ME IT SEEMS.
DREAMS FADE
KNEES WEAKEN
DEATH IS CERTAIN
LIFE IS AMAZING.
COBBLESTONES REMAIN
BLUE SKY, SOME RAIN
AND PEOPLE ARE CONTAINED
IN THE BROKEN GLASS OF VACANT LOTS
WHICH CONSTANTLY ECHO A LITANY OF NAMES:
PRESIDENTS & ROCK STARS
TRUCK DRIVERS & WAITRESSES
POLICE & THIEVES
MURDERERS & SAINTS
JUNKIES, CRIMINALS & PRIESTS
ALL SHARE THE SAME STREETS.
LIMOSINES PULL PAST
SEWING MACHINES WHIRLING
A MILLION CRIES IN SWEAT SHOPS
& TURN DOWN LANES
WHERE LOVERS FUCK
& OTHERS PISS THEIR LIFE AWAY,
DEPENDING ON THE TIME OF DAY.
UP STAIRWAYS & CROSSING STREETS,
UP ESCALATORS & ELEVATORS,
I REACH A MARBLE HALL
WITH HUGE CLOCKS ON ALL THE WALLS
& BALLERINAS DANCING EFFORTLESSLY.
IN THIS CITY, WINDING CASBAH MAZE
OF MYSTERY IN MY EYE,
I HAVE SELDOM REACHED SUCH HEIGHTS
& SO VAGUELY UNDERSTOOD BEFORE,
BUT NOW I SEE YOU
AND I FEEL PEACE.
AT THE PINNACLE OF BEAUTY
THERE IS NOTHING MORE TO SEE,
ONLY ENDLESS GAZING.
 
 
 
 
 
 
           ROOM OF CIVILIZATION
 
COLORED BRACELETS, WIDE & WOODEN,
2 CARVED & RED, 1 PURPLE & TURQUOISE,
1 WHITE WITH ORANGE & BLUE DOTS,
1 PINK & BLUE,AND 1 LAVENDER WITH
GREEN & BLACK ZIG ZAGS, 6 IN ALL,
ARE DANGLING NOT ON A BEAUTIFUL
WOMANíS ARM BUT ON A WHITE CURTAIN
ROD IN A WHITE ROOM. LARGE PLANES
OF COLOR, RED GREEN & YELLOW,
ARE TACKED ON THE OLD PLASTER WALL.
CHINESE PAPER LANTERNS, RIBBED & WHITE,
ARE SUSPENDED FROM THE CEILING
AND GIVE THE ROOM A PLEASANT GLOW.
IT FEELS LIKE A CARNIVAL, LIKE MARDI GRAS,
IT FEELS LIKE CELEBRATION & GOOD TIMES.
HANGING ON AN OLD WHITE DOOR NAILED SHUT
IS A GUITAR, A RICHENBACKER, RED & WHITE
(WITH A ROSEWOOD NECK) & ELECTRIC.
JOHN LENNON DOES CARTWHEELS, WALKS
UP THE WALLS, PRANCES ACROSS THE CEILING.
ANYTHING GOES WHEN YOU'RE MAKING IT UP.
GORBACHEV SITS IN A CORNER
SPINNING A BLACK GLOBE.
A GRAY CAT WITH A WHITE BELLY & WHITE PAWS
THE SIZE OF A PANDA STALKS BY THE WINDOW.
A WILD PEROXIDE BLONDE GAZES ON THE SCENE
FROM A CORNER. SHE HAS EYES LIGHT YEARS AWAY,
& YET SOMEHOW YOU GET THE FEELING SHE SEES EVERYTHING.
A RED CURTAIN WITH SMALL IVORY FLOWERS
FLOATS BILLOWINGLY IN THE FREE SPACES OF THE ROOM.
 
 
 
I TRY TO THINK OF SOMETHING PROFOUND
BUT CAN ONLY THINK OF THIS CONVERSATION.
"THERE'S SOMETHING WRONG WITH YOU," HE SAID.
"YOU NEVER CHANGE. YOU GET WHAT YOU WANT
AND THEN YOU'RE GONE," SHE REPLIED.
"YOU'RE IMMATURE. SO I WAS TALKING TO SOME
FRIENDS FOR AN HOUR. WE MADE LOVE FOR
4 HOURS THIS AFTERNOON. RELAX! THERE IS ALL
NIGHT AND ALL DAY TOMORROW...AND THE NEXT...
WE'RE TOGETHER NOW. WHY DO YOU ACT SO CRAZY?"
"YEAH, WE MAKE LOVE AND THEN YOU FEEL FINE.
GREAT. BUT WHAT ABOUT ME, WHAT ABOUT WHAT
I NEED? I HAD THE MOST MISERABLE NEW YEAR'S EVE
OF MY LIFE AND THEN YOU DO THIS TODAY."
"WHAT? I THOUGHT YOU HAD FUN LAST NIGHT.
I ENJOYED BEING WITH YOU WHENEVER I LOOKED
AT YOU IN THE MIDDLE OF EVERYBODY, I FELT
NOTHING BUT LOVE. WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?
WISDOM? BEAUTY? GOOD TIMES? YOU NEED A PHILOSOPHER,
A MODEL, A CLOWN? YOU NEED FRIENDSHIP?
AH, FRIENDSHIP, NOW THAT'S A HARD THING TO FIND.
I'LL RICHOCET LIKE A TRAIN FOR YOU,
CLACK DOWN THE TRACKS,
TAKE OFF LIKE A PLANE,
LET OUT MORE SLACK.
YOU NEED A JOB? CONSIDER YOURSELF HIRED.
YOU'RE CERTAINLY WELL QUALIFIED.
YOU'VE COME THIS FAR LOOKING FOR SOMETHING,
JUST WHAT IS IT YOU WANT?
I'LL HELP YOU SEE, I WILL NOT LEAVE,
IS IT COMPANY YOU NEED, OR SYMPATHY?
I'LL SAIL AROUND THE OCEANS, I'LL BE BRUCE LEE,
I'LL SLAY A DRAGON, WHAT DO YOU NEED?
I'LL BANG OUT A TUNE ON THE WHITE GUITAR,
A SONG ABOUT YOU SURROUNDED BY STARS.
I'LL GIVE YOU TIME TO THINK FOR YOURSELF.
I'LL LEAVE YOU ALONE. I WON'T LEAVE YOU ALONE.
IF YOU NEED ONE CALL, I'LL LISTEN TO IT ALL.
WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?"
 
 
 
"I WANT YOU TO LISTEN TO ME AND NOT GIVE ME A
LECTURE WHEN I'M THROUGH. I WANT YOU TO BE WITH
ME AND NOT BE LOOKING BEYOND ME. I WANT YOU
TO DO SOME OF THE THINGS I WANT TO DO. I WANT
TO HAVE SIMPLE CONVERSATIONS WITH YOU. DEEPLY
FELT CONVERSATIONS WITH YOU. I WANT YOU TO LISTEN
TO ME WITHOUT JUDGMENT. YOU KNOW A LOT OF PEOPLE
THINK I'M FUNNY AND WITTY.  I USED TO BE KNOWN
FOR MY WIT. WE DON'T TALK ANYMORE. I SAY SOMETHING
AND YOU START PREACHING. OR EITHER YOU DON'T
EVEN HEAR ME. YOU SEEM DAZED ALL THE TIME.
IS THERE SOMETHING WRONG WITH YOU?"
 
I STARED BLANKLY INTO SPACE. INCREASINGLY,
DAY BY DAY, MONTH BY MONTH, YEAR BY YEAR,
IT FEELS AS THOUGH THE MONITORS OF MY VITAL
SIGNS HAVE BECOME MORE AND MORE OF A STRAIGHT
LINE. "ìNO, I'M ALRIGHT,"  I SAID.
 
"EARTH TO TOM, CAN YOU HEAR ME,
ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?"
 
"YES, I'M LISTENING TO YOU."
 
 
 
 
 
            *******PAISLEY GIRL*******
 
 
MY MIND AND THE WALLS WERE SPINNING ROUND
YOU WERE STANDING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROOM
WILD BLONDE IN A MINISKIRT WALKED UP TO YOU
SHE WAS GLARING AT YOUR BEEHIVE HAIRDO
 
THE TWO OF YOU SEEMED TO GET ALONG
YOU EVEN STARTED TO TALK AND LAUGH
I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN IT WAS TOO MUCH TO ASK
WHERE THERE'S TOO MUCH HEAT THINGS TEND TO EXPLODE
 
COLORED LIGHTS ON THE WALLS WERE SPINNING ROUND
YOUR BEEHIVE HAIRDO HAD FALLEN DOWN
BLOODY BLONDE HAIR MADE YOU RETREAT
BLOOD ON THE CARPET BODY AT YOU FEET
 
OH OH PAISLEY GIRL DONíT YOU KNOW I LOVE YOU SO
OH OH PAISLEY GIRL DONíT YOU KNOW I MISS  YOU SO
 
 
 
 
 
                      THE BROWN GUITAR
 
 
THE BROWN GUITAR IS PROPPED IN THE CORNER OF THE ROOM.
 
THE WHITE ROCKING CHAIR IS MOTIONLESS IN THE CENTER.
 
5 O'CLOCK LILAC LAVENDER LIGHT STREAMS IN THE WINDOWS.
 
A BEAUTIFUL SCENE, BUT SO LIFELESS AND STILL UNTIL
 
SHE COMES HOME TALKING AND LAUGHING, THE SUN STREAMING
 
THROUGH HER GLEAMING HAIR.  THE ROCKING CHAIR
 
TIPS FAR FORWARD, TEETERING ON THE BRINK OF FALLING
 
OVER WHEN SHE LEANS FORWARD FOR A KISS.
 
 
 
 
 
 
                 THE WHITE ROCKING CHAIR
 
A BROWN GUITAR IS PROPPED IN THE CORNER OF THE ROOM.
 
THE WHITE ROCKING CHAIR IS MOTIONLESS IN THE CENTER.
 
5 O'CLOCK LILAC LAVENDER LIGHT STREAMS IN THE WINDOWS.
 
A BEAUTIFUL SCENE, BUT SO LIFELESS & STILL UNTIL
 
SHE COMES HOME TALKING AND LAUGHING, THE SUN STREAMING
 
THROUGH HER LIVELY DARK HAIR, AND THE WHITE ROCKING CHAIR
 
TIPS FAR FORWARD, TEETERING ON THE BRINK
 
OF FALLING OVER WHEN SHE BENDS FORWARD TO KISS HIM.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
                  STRANGER WITH SUNGLASSES
 
 
            THE TRAIN YANKED AWAY
                    FROM THE STATION
                    I will leave confused
                      thoughts behind
                      and the more time
                         that passes the farther
                   the more distant and less disturbing
                          will the memory of her be
                    THE TRAIN SCREECHED
                       INTO A STATION WITH
                       BLUE TILE WALLS    DARK BLUE
                           and the past will be complete
                                and tomorrow will arrive
                          and in my hand will be the keys of life
                               and on my finger will be the ring
                                 of forgetfulness and peace
                                  HE THOUGHT NAIVELY. HE CLIMBED
                                  THE STAIRS AND ONCE AGAIN REACHED
                                          THE SURFACE OF THE STREETS
                                        HE WALKED DOWN MONTAGUE STREET
                                             TO LOVE LANE, AND ENTERED
                                            THE ROOMING HOUSE WHICH HE
                                                 LIKED TO BELIEVE WAS HIS
                                                      TEMPORARY RESIDENCE.
                                                          What do I need
                                                                 HER for?
                                                       Relationships are nothing
                                                               but trouble
                                                                   anyway
                                                          AS HE ENTERED THE HALLWAY
                                                               AND CLIMBED THE STAIRS
                                                         HE SAW THE MAN WITH SUNGLASSES
                                                                PEEKING OUT OF HIS ROOM
                                                                       AND AS ALWAYS
                                                              THE LONG THIN LINE OF YELLOW LIGHT
                                                                              GREW
                                                                    SMALLER AND SMALLER UNTIL
                                                                           THE DOOR CLOSED
 
 
 
    
 
 
  
                     STRANGER WITH SUNGLASSES
 
 
                 I will leave confused
                       thoughts behind
                  THE TRAIN YANKED AWAY
                       FROM THE STATION
                          and the more time
                                that passes the farther,
                           the more distant and less disturbing
                                the memory of her will be
                          THE TRAIN SCREECHED
                            INTO A STATION WITH BLUE TILE WALLS
                         and the past will be complete
                              and tomorrow will arrive
                        and in my hand will be the key of life
                              and on my finger will be the ring
                                  of peace reconstructed
                                  HE THOUGHT NAIVELY. HE CLIMBED
                                THE STAIRS AND ONCE AGAIN REACHED
                                         THE SURFACE OF THE STREETS
                                     HE WALKED DOWN MONTAGUE STREET
                                               TO LOVE LANE, AND ENTERED
                                                THE ROOMING HOUSE WHICH HE
                                                      LIKED TO BELIEVE WAS HIS
                                                          TEMPORARY RESIDENCE.
                                           What do I need her for anyway
                                         relationships are nothing but trouble
                                                 AS HE ENTERED THE HALLWAY
                                                    AND CLIMBED THE STAIRS
                                                    HE SAW THE MAN WITH SUNGLASSES
                                                     PEEK OUT OF HIS DOOR         AS ALWAYS
                                                  THE LONG LINE OF YELLOW LIGHT
                                                         GREW THINNER AND SMALLER
                                                  UNTIL THE DOOR CLOSED
                                                 AND DARKNESS AND SILENCE RETURNED
 
 
 
 
 
 
                     EL PASO BREAKUP
 
WE RODE THROUGH THE DESERT
    DROVE THROUGH THE NIGHT
  HOT SUN BEATING DOWN    DIDN'T FEEL RIGHT
        SNAKES STARING IN OUR EYES
                LEATHERY SKIN WAS WHAT
                 WENT ON BETWEEN US
     WHAT WE HAD IN COMMON
          COPPERHEADS BY DAY
               TAKING BITES OF EACH OTHER
             ARMIDILLOS BY NIGHT
                  RUNNING LOOSE ACROSS THE SAND
             STARING INTO EACH OTHERS HEADLIGHTS
                   WAITING TO SEE WHO
                     WOULD RUN DOWN WHO
 
            YOU LEARN TO GET ALONG WITHOUT ME
             AND I'LL BE ABLE TO LIVE WITHOUT YOU
 
       YOU'VE GOT YOUR NERVE
                 RIPPING ON DOWN    DOWN THROUGH TEXAS
 
    ONCE EVERYTHING WAS A MYSTERY
    NOW IT ALL SEEMS DEAD
 
 
                TRANSFIGURED NIGHT
 
 
 
 
 
WALKING AROUND IN THE AIRPORT PARKING LOT,
WITH SUITCASES IN OUR HANDS,
WE LOOKED FOR THE MAGIC CAR,
THE CAR THAT WOULD UNITE US AGAIN.
THE MOON WAS LOW AND FULL,
A  ROUND WHITENESS IN DARK BLUE SPACE.
WE DROVE INTO THE TUNNEL OF THE MOON.
COLORFUL CONFETTI WHIRLED ALL AROUND US.
WE KISSED, CLIMBED LADDERS AND LAUGHED,
PAINTED THE CYLINDER WALLS PINK.
MULTI COLORED PICKUP STICKS
SPILLED AND SWIRLED DOWN CYLINDER.
FINALLY LIKE PUPPIES WE SIGHED
AND SPRAWLED ON A WHITE CARPET
EMBEDDED WITH PEARLS.
CLOSE UP, YOU
WINKED LIKE A GYPSY
SMILED LIKE A THIEF.
FALLING INTO EACH OTHERS FEELINGS,
OUR EARTH'S SPLIT, BODIES QUAKED,
WHITE LIGHTNING COUPLED US.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
                             Winter Harmony
 
 
 
Each leaf in itself is such a masterpiece,
and the snow and colorful leaves on the ground
an oriental rug of amazement and winter harmony.
Yet in each of these days in winter woods,
immeasurable...warmth...exists.   Yes,
life is difficult, but in its difficulty
and pain and agony, we must feel, derive
or somehow achieve the ecstasy of this experience.
An inventory or accounting of ourselves must take place.
If we are to solve the riddle of the inner self,
to reach total orgasm of the soul,
we must absorb ourselves and adorn ourselves
with fair skies and the distinctions that usually
are drawn must be forgotten, evoking a sense
of the life force within us into the atmosphere,
and becoming one with the world around us.
Around us has been placed a tapestry of despair,
the grand entanglement, intricately woven.
To feel the life in our hands, the electric sensations,
to see the colors of the beautiful earth,
to know that we have the power to act
and to change things and to enjoy life, that is living.
Then, when the rich hues begin to fade,
 and regrets and pride dissipate, we can say
with confidence;  We did what we had to do.
            
 
                                           October 21,  1972
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
                 NIGHT COFFEE SHOP
 
 
Outside the late night coffee shop window
 
You leaned against the cold bricks, hiding your emotions
 
In the shadows, retracting in African blackness with
 
bright bandanna, and hands sheltered in the pockets of your trenchcoat.
 
The white gleam in the corner of your eyes was the only clue
 
To the memory of a man whose love showed you
 
In actuality or in a dream a bright tropical world.
 
We stood so close your breath condensed before my eyes.
 
In late night bars we had danced like only lovers
 
Dance and you were free with your body, a mutual trust
 
Existed between us but you were always distant and proud.
 
Trucks on late night shifts cruised through the turquoise haze
 
Of streets with lights synchronized green then red through infinity,
 
While my mind drifted over the sadness in your eyes.
 
 
 
 
 
 
                                             STANG
                                      THE MOON DOG
                          or  HOW THE STARS WERE CREATED
 
STANG, A WHITE MOON DOG, STOOD
ON TOP OF A HUGE MOUND OF DIRT.
ABANDONED BUILDINGS SURROUNDED HIM.
UTTER LONELINESS CUT TO THE HEART
OF HIS ANIMAL INSTINCTS.
HE LOOKED AROUND & SAW
THE OTHER DOGS WITH COOL SHINY COATS,
BLACK WAS THE COLOR OF THE PACKS,
AND HE FELT SO SEPARATE, SO INDIVIDUAL,
& SO ALONE.  HE WANTED TO BELONG TO A PACK
BUT HIS PRIDE WOULD ONLY LET HIM BE
THE LEADER OF A PACK.
BUT HE WAS A DOG WITH NO PACK,
A CHIEF WITH NO TRIBE,
A WARRIOR WITH NO CAUSE.
A PHILOSOPHER WITH NOTHING TO  SAY.
SO HE HOWLED FROM DEEP WITHIN
THE VOID...A HOWL WHICH RESONATED
IN THE EMPTINESS...A HOWL WHICH PIERCED
THE DARKNESS & SHATTERED THE NIGHT
INTO A MILLION & MORE BITS OF GLASS.
AND THE GLEAMING STARS WERE HIS CONSOLATION,
AND THE SHINNING STARS BECAME HIS COMPANIONS.
 
 
 
 
 
 
                               MOON DOG
                        LEADER WITHOUT A PACK
 
 
A WHITE MOON DOG STANDS
ON TOP OF THE HUGE MOUNDS OF DIRT.
ABANDONED BUILDINGS SURROUND HIM.
UTTER LONELINESS CUTS TO THE HEART
OF HIS ANIMAL INSTINCTS.
HE LOOKS ABOUT & SEES THE OTHER DOGS
WITH COOL SHINY COATS, BLACK THE COLOR OF THE PACKS,
AND HE FEELS SEPARATE, SO INDIVIDUAL,
& SO ALONE. HE WANTS TO BELONG TO A PACK
BUT HIS PRIDE WILL ONLY LET HIM BE
THE LEADER OF A PACK.
BUT HE IS A DOG WITH NO PACK,
A CHIEF WITH NO TRIBE,
A WARRIOR WITH NO CAUSE,
A PHILOSOPHER WITH NOTHING TO SAY.
AND YET HE HOWLS FROM DEEP WITHIN
THE VOID...A HOWL WHICH RESONATES
IN THE EMPTINESS...A HOWL WHICH PIERCES
THE DARKNESS & SHATTERS THE NIGHT
INTO THOUSANDS OF DIAMONDS IN THE SKY.
THE GLEAMING STARS ARE HIS CONSOLATION.
THE SHINNING STARS BECOME HIS COMPANIONS.
 
 
 
 
 
 
                                             THE ALARM CLOCK
 
 
Paper cannot contain me
                        maybe some of my thoughts
                                                         but little else
I feel
      a thousand
                       glistening seagulls
                                                rush through sky of brain
corpuscular magic
                               of synapses randomly firing
           no
                  descent
                                 of death
but scent of  SHOCK
 
ELECTRIC SHOCK shaking me like an alarm clock
                                                                                    into frenzy
 
Don't              Spend            An hour with me
Unless             You have       More than eyes that see
I                       Rise               Like a tiger they say
Day     and        Night            I rage and play
 
Waste no time                       On useless things
Like Brown says                    Stay on the scene
Let's Go Letís Go                   Let's Go Go Go
Let's Go                                 Down to Chinatown
Let's Go                                   to a Go Go
Openings                                  Rehearsals
Parties                                        Clubs
Zoos           and                         Truths
and DON'T STOP                    Until your eyes pop
into POP ART***POP MUSIC))))POP POETRY((((((**
 
But you don't always get the answers she says
You don't always get the answers
 
Arteries
of Day bleed into Night
                                       Veins of Night bleed into Day...
 
 
But the inner workings
                       are hidden behind
                                 the expressionless numerical face
                                       of the ALARM CLOCK
 
                       always ready to go off.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
                                            THE ALARM CLOCK
 
Paper cannot contain me
                        maybe some of my thoughts
                                                         but little else
I feel
      a thousand
                       glistening seagulls
                                                rush through sky of brain
corpuscular magic
                               of synapses randomly firing
           no
                  descent
                                 of death
but scent of  SHOCK
 
ELECTRIC SHOCK shaking me like an alarm clock
                                                                                    into frenzy
Don't              Spend            An hour with me
Unless             You have       More than eyes that see
I                       Rise               Like a tiger they say
Day     and        Night            I rage and play
 
Waste no time                       On useless things
Like Brown says                    Stay on the scene
Let's Go Let's Go                   Let's Go Go Go
Let's Go                                 Down to Chinatown
Let's Go                                   to a Go Go
Openings                                  Rehearsals
Parties                                        Clubs
Zoos           and                         Truths
and DON'T STOP                    Until your eyes pop
into POP ART***POP MUSIC))))POP POETRY((((((**
 
But you don't always get the answers she says
You don't always get the answers
 
Arteries
of Day bleed into Night
                                       Veins of Night bleed into Day...
But the inner workings
                       are hidden behind
                                 the expressionless numerical face
                                       of the ALARM CLOCK
                                             always ready to go off.
 
 
 
 
 
                     NIGHT COFFEE SHOP
 
Outside the late night coffee shop window
You leaned against the cold bricks, hiding your emotions
In the shadows, retracting in African blackness
with red bandanna and hands sheltered in your trenchcoat.
The white gleam in the corner of your eyes was the only clue
To the memory of a man whose love showed you
In actuality or in a dream a bright tropical world.
We stood so close your breath condensed before my eyes.
In late night bars we had danced like only lovers
Dance and you were free with your body, a mutual trust
Existed between us but you were always distant and proud.
Trucks on late night shifts cruised through the turquoise haze
of streets with lights synchronized green then red through infinity,
while my thoughts drifted over the glad sadness in your eyes.
 
 
 
 
 
 
             Night Coffee Shop
 
Outside the late
night coffee shop
window
You leaned against
the bricks, hiding
your emotions
in the shadows
retracting in
African blackness
and red bandanna
your hands sheltered
in the pockets
of your trenchcoat.
The white gleam
in corner of your eye
brown eyes like those
crudely carved in wood,
was the only clue
to the memory of a man
whose love showed you
in actuality or in a dream
a bright tropical world.
We stood so close
your breath condensed
before my eyes.
"It's simple, this life,
 like a windowpane,
WE never understand." you said.
Trucks on late night
shifts cruised through
the turquoise haze
of streets with lights
synchronized green
then red
through infinity,
while my mind
wandered over
the glad sadness
in your eyes.
 
 
 
 
 
 
             DAYDREAM #236
 
 
WITH DISTURBED EMOTIONS,
 
I LEANED AGAINST THE POST
 
AND LISTENED TO THE BIRDS SINGING
 
ON THE POWER LINE ABOVE.
 
THE GRAY SKY BROKE BRIGHT
 
AND THE SUN LIT UP THE HOUSES
 
RED, BLUE, YELLOW WITH CUMULUS LIGHT.
 
THE FINGERS OF THE WIND
 
TOUCHED MY CHEEKS AND PAINTED
 
A PARADISE IN WHAT HAD ALWAYS
 
SEEMED A VACANT LOT BEFORE.
 
 
 
 
 
 
THE POWER OF LOVE
 
 
Perhaps  I would feel more lonely, more sad now
that I live alone in this small shack, this cottage
in the woods and trees of Atlanta...had it not been
for you and all the wonderful times and all the wonderful
great and strange people that lived here and slept here
and played here and partied here and worked here...yes to know love
then one is eternally happy, once you know love
cravings, desires, needs subside, because love is powerful...
some say love sucks, but when you know and have felt real
love, then you know it rules over all things, the power of love
once you have felt it, is magnificent, and awesome...the greatest
moment, the greatest achievement, the greatest experience in
life is to feel the beauty and wonder of true love...and that is the
power of love.      11/8/05
 
 
 
 
 
            The Carpenter
 
He is standing there
holding the basis
of modern society
in his hands.
In his left hand
& rising above his head
is a pine 2X4, a stud,
long, straight, and strong.
With his right hand
he holds a circular saw,
electric whirling blade,
steel, warm, powerful.
The basic elements
of society's structure
(architecturally speaking)
and symbolically
the key components:
man and woman.
He is the closest
thing to  God
I can find.
The heavens,
the great ultimate of all,
washes through all things, cells
swirling transference of connectiveness,
the carpenter is the symbol of that connectiveness.
 
 
 
 
 
 
               LIFT ME INTO CLOUDS
 
 
LIFT ME INTO CLOUDS
 
I'VE BEEN WALKING THE EARTH TOO LONG.
 
HELP ME SEE BEYOND MY FLESH AND IMMEDIATE NEEDS.
 
LET ME TOUCH THE SKY OF TRUTH,
 
AND EAT THE FRUIT OF IDEALS IN THE MIND'S TREES.
 
LET ME SEE THROUGH PEOPLE WHO ACT SO TOUGH
 
BUT ARE NOT MEAN, WHO HIDE THEIR BEAUTIFUL
 
SENSITIVE YOLK IN A BARBED SHELL.
 
AND HELP ME TO RECOGNIZE THOSE WHO
 
MANIPULATE BEHIND HONEYED SMILES.
 
 
 
 
 
 
        SUICIDE
 
SUICIDE.
WHO SHOULD STOP ME?
NO FRIENDS OR LOVE OF MINE.
THEY ALL UNDERSTAND IT SO WELL.
THE REELING OF THE MIND,THE DIZZINESS,
IS SOMETIMES MORE THAN I CAN BEAR.
WHEN YOUNGER AND MORE ENTHUSIASTIC
I WOULD HAVE FACED IT BOLDLY AND WITH COURAGE,
LIKE DAVID STANDING BEFORE GOLIATH.
BUT NOW APPROACHING THE MID POINT IN LIFE,
THIRTY-THREE, NOT SO ENERGETIC AS I USED TO BE,
THE ANGUISH OUTWEIGHING THE JOY,
I'M WILLING TO GIVE UP LIFE
SO THAT THE PAIN WILL END.
BUT OF COURSE THERE IS NO GUARANTEE
THAT THE PAIN WILL END.
THE BEST ONE CAN DO
IS RIDE IT THROUGH,
AND FIGHT IF ONE HAS TO,
IN ORDER TO SEE THE MOON FLOWER
RISE IN LAKE WATER ONCE AGAIN.
 
11/4/84
ADAM HILL
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
         THE JUMP OF THE TIGER
 
 
LIKE A MAGNETIC FORCE
PRESSING DOWN ON WHITE STUCCO
IN A MEXICAN TOWN,
LIKE TIGER BALM RUBBED
DEEP IN THE BODY,
LIKE BLUE SKY
ABOVE EVERYDAY LIFE,
THAT IS THE IMAGINATION.
JUMP INTO IT.
BUT IN THE CONTRACTION OF MUSCLES
AND HEROIC LEAP A CHANGE OCCURS,
FROM HUMAN TO BUTTER
TO TIGER BUTTER TIGER BUTTER
TIGER SOARING THROUGH THE SPACE OF HEAVEN.
BUT NOW THE RIDDLE, THE DIABOLIC SIDE.
YOU GOTTA PAY TO FLY HIGH
YOU'RE GONNA CRASH DOWN
TO THE OTHER SIDE.
THAT'S THE WAY LIFE IS.
CAN YOU TAKE IT?
YOU CAN'T FAKE IT.
WHAT THE HELL.
MAKE THE JUMP OF THE TIGER.
 
 
 
 
 
 
            JUMP OF THE TIGER
 
LIKE A HUGE MAGNETIC FORCE
PRESSING DOWN ON WHITE STUCCO
IN A MEXICAN TOWN,
LIKE TIGER BALM RUBBED DEEP
AND SOOTHING THE BODY,
LIKE THE BLUE SKY
ABOVE EVERY DAY LIFE,
THAT IS THE IMAGINATION.
IT IS SOMETHING TO JUMP INTO,
BUT IN THE CONTRACTION OF MUSCLES
AND HEROIC LEAP A CHANGE OCCURS,
LIKE CHANGING FROM HUMAN
TO BUTTER...TO A HUGE TIGER
SOARING THROUGH THE SPACE OF HEAVEN.
SOME NEVER SOLVE THE IMAGINATION'S RIDDLE,
THE DIABOLIC SIDE. THEY SPEND THEIR LIVES
EXPLORING IT, NOT BECAUSE THEY ARE INTRINSICALLY
EVIL, BUT BECAUSE THEY NEVER UNDERSTAND IT,
CALL IT THE MOON WHICH LEADS THEM ON,
THERE IS NO BLAME.
BUT ONCE BITTEN BY THE IMAGINATION,
LOOK SKYWARD, MAKE THE JUMP OF THE TIGER.
 
1/85
 
 
 
 
 
                SNAKE
 
BEYOND HER LITHE BROWN BODY
AND SNAKE TATTOOED CRUDELY ON HER ARM,
BEYOND THE PRIMAL WHITE FLASH OF HER EYE
THAT PERCEIVES LIGHTNING IMAGES OF SILK,
THE HARSH SUN BEATS DOWN, THE PLEASURABLE
MECCA OF NEW YORK CITY IS STILL VISIBLE.
BUT CLOSER TO HER BLOOD IS THE SWEAT
STREAMING AIR COOLED ON THE CHISELED FACES,
THROUGH THE HAIR AND DOWN THE BARE BACKS
OF THOSE ON HORSES GALLOPING THROUGH YELLOW FIELDS.
 
 
 
 
 
                 SNAKE
 
beyond your lithe brown body
and snake tattooed crudely on your arm
 
the primal white flash of your eye
perceives lightning images of silk.
 
the harsh sun beats down,
the pleasurable mecca of nyc still visible.
 
but closer to your blood is the sweat
streaming air cooled on the chiseled faces,
 
through the hair and down the bare backs
of those on horses galloping through yellow fields.
 
 
 
 
SMOKED GLASS LIMO
BUT NOBODY CARES
LET IT ALL GO.  GO!
GO TO HELL
GO TO HEAVEN
GO TO THE 7-11
LIGHTEN UP
EVERYTHING &
NOT MUCH MATTERS
(LISTEN TO THE CLICK)
I'M IN SYNC
WITH THE WAY YOU THINK
DROP THE MINK
SAVE THE SEAL
I'VE GOT DEVOTION
TO YOUR MOTION
LIKE THE OCEAN
CARRY ME AWAY!
 
 
 
 
 
 
                              BEFORE SHE WAS GONE
 
THERE SHE WAS,
LEANING AGAINST THE WALL
AWARE OF IT ALL
EYES THAT WERE LIVELY
AND KNOWING
TAKING IT ALL IN.
WEARING RED,
SHE JUMPED OUT AT ME.
I SENSED NOTHING WAS BEYOND HER,
AND I FIT INTO THE SCHEME.
I KNEW SHE WOULD TAKE ME
AND TELL ME WHICH WAY TO GO,
CAUSE SHE KNOWS.
"CERTAIN THINGS YOU DO
ARE WAY OUT, THEY'RE CRAZY
AND NO ONE WILL UNDERSTAND,
BUT THERE'S NOTHING YOU CAN DO
ABOUT IT BECAUSE THAT'S YOU,"  SHE SAID.
"ìYOU CAN'T WORRY ANYMORE.
YOU'VE JUST GOT TO BECOME YOURSELF
AND IF YOU'RE LUCKY SOMEBODY
WILL LIKE WHAT YOU ARE.
YOU CAN'T TRY TO REACH EVERYBODY,
YOU CAN'T TRY TO PLEASE EVERYBODY,
THAT WILL DRIVE YOU CRAZY.
YOU HAVE TO DO WHAT YOU HAVE TO DO,
AND THAT IS ALL YOU CAN DO."
 
HER EYES SPARKLED AT ME
AT THE COUNTER OVER TEA
IN THE COFFEE SHOP, AND
HER RING OF 13 GARNETS
POINTED ME IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION.
BUT THEN SHE CLIMBED INTO A LIMOSINE
THAT WAS NOT EVEN HER'S AND DISAPPEARED
WHILE I STOOD STUDDERING AND THE MOON WAS FULL,
BUT I DID LISTEN BEFORE SHE WAS GONE.
 
 
 
 
           SNAKE
 
BEYOND YOUR LITHE BROWN BODY LADY
AND SNAKE TATTOOED CRUDELY ON YOUR ARM,
BEYOND THE PRIMAL WHITE FLASH OF YOUR EYE
PERCEIVING  LIGHTNING IMAGES OF SILK,
THE HARSH SUN BEATS DOWN, THE PLEASURABLE
MECCA OF NEW YORK CITY IS STILL VISIBLE.
BUT CLOSER TO YOUR BLOOD IS THE SWEAT
STREAMING AIR COOLED ON THE CHISELED FACES,
THROUGH THE HAIR AND DOWN THE BARE BACKS
OF THOSE ON HORSES GALLOPING THROUGH FIELDS.
 
 
 
 
 
             BEFORE SHEíS GONE
 
there she was
         leaning against the wall
                    in the lobby of
                         The Museum of Modern Art
                  aware of it all
                       eyes that were lively
                               and knowing
                                       taking it all in.
Wearing red,  she jumped
              out at you.
                      Nothing was beyond her,
                          and you fit into the scheme.
                             You knew she'd take you
                               and tell you which way
                                  to go, cause she knows.
"Certain things you do
      are way out, they're crazy
          and no one will understand,
              but there's nothing you can do
                 about it, cause that is you."  she said...
                         "You can't worry anymore.
                                you've just got to become yourself
                                     and if you're lucky somebody
                                         will like what you are.
                                                You can't try to reach everybody,
                                                   you can't try to please everybody,
                                                        that will drive you crazy.
                                                             You have to do what
                                                                  you have to do, and that ís all
                                                                          you can do."
Her eyes will sparkle
       at you at the counter
                 over tea in the coffee shop,
     and her ring of 13 garnets
            will point you in
                 the right direction.
She'll climb in a limosine
        that's not even her's
              and disappear while
                  you're studdering
                     and the moon is full
                             so listen to her
                                       before she's gone.
 
 
She's a friend for life,
               a  friend you know you need.
             She's a friend for a moment,
                       and you listen while she speaks.
                                She's your sister immediately,
                                   and your wife the rest of your life.
                                        
                                         She's a mystery, she's a truth,
                                             and you can't quite put
                                                    your finger on what
                                                         it is about her
                                                        that makes her so unique.
                                                                
                                                         But you want her
                                                               to keep on talking
                                                              She knows what puts
                                                                    you to sleep.
 
 
 
 
 
 
                              The White Fence
 
 
The white fence stretched in front of the house
 
like countless inscribed marble stones.
 
The old lady with silken hair and sagging breasts
 
stooped beside the hydrangias, scraping the dirt
 
with a hoe.  "What else can we do when death comes?"
 
A robin who once sprang quietly across the grass
 
she buried as I watched its still bright breast,
 
and her sad smile.  What is death for us on earth,
 
is it already in the dying bones within us, is it
 
in the leaves which slowly decay beneath the bushes,
 
glowing, burning in sunlight? Or does death remain
 
unknown, unfelt until our hearts stop pumping and
 
our minds stop functioning and immediately life
 
passes and our souls walk away?  What else can we do,
 
except return to the earth what originally belonged to it.
 
 
 
 
 
 
                     The White Fence
 
 
The white fence stretched in front of the house
like countless inscribed marble stones.
The old lady with silken hair and sagging breasts
stooped beside the hydrangias, scraping the dirt
with a hoe. "What else can we do when death comes?"
A robin who once sprang quietly across the grass
she buried as I watched its still bright breast,
and her sad smile.  What is death for us on earth,
is it already in the dying bones within us, is it
in the leaves which slowly decay beneath the bushes,
glowing, burning in sunlight? Or does death remain
unknown, unfelt until our hearts stop pumping and
our minds stop functioning and immediately life
passes and our souls walk away?  What else can we do,
except return to the earth what originally belonged to it.
 
 
 
 
 
           night rain falls softly
 
night rain falls softly.
outside bare windows.
she brings me tea and sits silently close
in the dim fertile light
her honey colored profile and disheveled hair
show affection, but the white glow of her brown eyes
slants with suspicion as well as passion.
i speak softly for awhile
but love has her tongue tied.
she lies on the bed
and, half consciously, opens her robe to me.
but i don't care. i am content with opium.
 
 
 
 
  
       NIGHT RAIN FALLS SOFTLY
 
 
NIGHT RAIN FALLS SOFTLY
 
OUTSIDE THE BARE WINDOWS.
 
SHE BRINGS ME TEA AND SITS SILENTLY CLOSE
 
IN THE DIM FERTILE LIGHT.
 
HER HONEY COLORED PROFILE AND DISHEVELED HAIR
 
SHOW AFFECTION, BUT THE WHITE GLOW OF HER BROWN EYES
 
SLANTS WITH SUSPICION AS WELL AS PASSION.
 
I SPEAK SOFTLY FOR A WHILE
 
BUT LOVE HAS HER TONGUE TIED.
 
SHE LIES ON THE BED
 
AND, HALF CONSCIOUSLY, OPENS HER ROBE TO ME.
 
BUT I DONíT CARE. I'M CONTENT WITH OPIUM.
 
 
                          
                            
ZEN MOMENTS
 
 
WITH NO THOUGHT OF RETURN
THE CAT EYES THE TREE,
THE ROAD TO THE SKY.
 
THE YELLOW PERCH CAUGHT
IN THE CHICKEN WIRE TRAP
THRASHES! THRASHES SO !
 
HAVING  AN IDEA
I TAKE DOWN THE WHITE GUITAR,
BUT THE MOON'S SONG IS BETTER.
 
SHE LEAVES HER UNDERPANTS
WERE THEY FALL ON THE BATHROOM FLOOR,
MINDLESS OF THE BOYS WHO COME OVER.
 
THE MONARCH BUTTERFLIES
LIE NUMB ON THE GROUND,
THEIR REAR ENDS STUCK TOGETHER.
 
THE CAT'S EYES ARE CLOSED TO SLITS,
SLITS IN FUR, BUT HIS WHITE WHISKERS
GUARD AGAINST DANGER.
 
THE WATER SPIDER
RESTS ON THE SURFACE TENSION,
SUSPENDED BETWEEN TO WORLDS.
            
 
 
                  CASBAH MAZE
 
BEAUTIFUL CITY, AMAZING & BRIGHT.
SPIRES & SPIRES & SAPPHIRE LIGHT.
WE ARE ALL NOMADS
OF THIS SPLENDID PLACE,
THIS MERGER OF MECCA & DESERT
IN CONCRETE, STONE & GLASS,
WE ARE ALL NOMADS
ON THE PLAINS OF TIME,
ON THE PLANES OF TIME.
I FEEL CLOSE TO YOU,
YOU ARE ALWAYS WITH ME IT SEEMS.
DREAMS FADE
KNEES WEAKEN
DEATH IS CERTAIN
LIFE IS AMAZING.
COBBLESTONES REMAIN
BLUE SKY, SOME RAIN
AND PEOPLE ARE CONTAINED
IN THE BROKEN GLASS OF VACANT LOTS
WHICH CONSTANTLY ECHO A LITANY OF NAMES:
PRESIDENTS & ROCK STARS
TRUCK DRIVERS & WAITRESSES
POLICE & THIEVES
MURDERERS & SAINTS
JUNKIES, CRIMINALS & PRIESTS
ALL SHARE THE SAME STREETS.
LIMOSINES PULL PAST
SEWING MACHINES WHIRLING
A MILLION CRIES IN SWEAT SHOPS
& TURN DOWN LANES
WHERE LOVERS FUCK
& OTHERS PISS THEIR LIFE AWAY,
DEPENDING ON THE TIME OF DAY.
 
UP STAIRWAYS & CROSSING STREETS,
UP ESCALATORS & ELEVATORS,
I REACH A MARBLE HALL
WITH HUGE CLOCKS ON ALL THE WALLS
& BALLERINAS DANCING EFFORTLESSLY.
IN THIS CITY, WINDING CASBAH MAZE
OF MYSTERY IN MY EYE,
I HAVE SELDOM REACHED SUCH HEIGHTS
& SO VAGUELY UNDERSTOOD BEFORE,
BUT NOW I SEE YOU
AND I FEEL PEACE.
AT THE PINNACLE OF BEAUTY
THERE IS NOTHING MORE TO SEE,
ONLY ENDLESS GAZING.
 
 
 
 
 
 
                      FULL MOON/SUNLIGHT
 
  
        FULL MOON                        SUNLIGHT
 
DRUNKEN PATH WINDING THROUGH THE WAYWARD
 
                     WANDERINGS OF THE MIND
 
 
       THE SPANISH MOSS HANGS EFFULGENTLY
                    
                      GRAY SPECTRAL DREAMS
 
                             HAZY SPECTER OF A PAST
 
 
 AS I WEAVE BETWEEN SUNLIGHT AND SHADE
 
                I STUMBLE IN A WILD DAZE
      
       AND DRINK TO YOU       WITH LIPS BURNING
 
          GYPSY        BUSINESS FEVERED    WOMAN
 
                       MUSTANG WILD EMOTIONED
 
 
      THE LIQUOR POURS                A FLOW DOWN RAINBOW
 
          TORRENTS OF FLOWERS                BINARY LIGHT
 
  BRIGHT CHARIOTS OF A DISTANT PLANET EMERGING
 
     CELESTIAL BLUE RIVER OF SKY & SEA & LAND
 
FLOWING INTO A CLARITY BEYOND COMPREHENSION
 
YES I THINK             YOU'RE A REAL GOOD DRINK
YES I KNOW              LIKE THIS WHISKEY YOU FLOW
 
 
 
 
 
                       FULL MOON/SUNLIGHT
 
 
         FULL MOON                  SUNLIGHT
DRUNKEN PATH WINDING THROUGH THE WAYWARD
                     WANDERINGS OF THE MIND
 
      THE SPANISH MOSS HANGS EFFULGENTLY
                    GRAY SPECTRAL DREAMS
                             HAZY SPECTER OF A PAST
 
     AS I WEAVE BETWEEN SUNLIGHT AND SHADE
                I STUMBLE IN A WILD DAZE
         AND DRINK TO YOU       WITH LIPS BURNING
              GYPSY      BUSINESS FEVERED      WOMAN
                          MUSTANG WILD EMOTIONED
 
             THE LIQUOR POURS          A FLOW DOWN RAINBOW
               TORRENTS OF FLOWERS            BINARY LIGHT
        BRIGHT CHARIOTS OF A DISTANT PLANET EMERGING
           CELESTIAL BLUE RIVER OF SKY & SEA & LAND
           FLOWING INTO A CLARITY BEYOND COMPREHENSION
 
    YES I THINK              YOU'RE A REAL GOOD DRINK
     YES I KNOW               LIKE THIS WHISKEY YOU FLOW
 
 
    
 
 
 
                      FULL MOON / SUNLIGHT
 
 
          FULL MOON                                 SUNLIGHT
    
   DRUNKEN PATH WINDING THROUGH THE WAYWARD
 
                       WANDERINGS OF THE MIND
 
 
           THE SPANISH MOSS HANGS EFFULGENTLY
                      
                            GRAY SPECTRAL DREAMS
                                    
                                          HAZY SPECTER OF A PAST
 
 
         AS I WEAVE BETWEEN SUNLIGHT AND SHADE
                      
                      I STUMBLE IN A WILD DAZE
 
            AND DRINK TO YOU         WITH LIPS BURNING
 
              GYPSY         BUSINESS FEVERED           WOMAN
 
                              MUSTANG WILD EMOTIONED
 
 
             THE LIQUOR POURS             A FLOW DOWN RAINBOW
 
                 TORRENTS OF FLOWERS             BINARY LIGHT
 
        BRIGHT CHARIOTS OF A DISTANT PLANET EMERGING
 
            CELESTIAL BLUE RIVER OF SKY & SEA & LAND
 
          FLOWING INTO A CLARITY BEYOND COMPREHENSION
 
 
      YES I THINK           YOU'RE A REAL GOOD DRINK
 
       YES I KNOW            LIKE THIS WHISKEY YOU FLOW
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
               ACROSS THE WORLD
 
ACROSS THE WORLD
IN JAPAN
(IN A TEAHOUSE OF SIMPLE BAMBOO
RICE PAPER RECTANGLES & THIN MAHOGANY TILES)
IN INDIA
IN EUROPE
AND IN THE PELOPONESE
PEOPLE ARE RELAXING IN THEIR HOMES.
 
I HAVE A SMALL HOME TOO
AND I AM CONTENT
WITH MY HAND MADE TABLE
(ODD PIECES OF WOOD, SOME LONG
SOME WIDE, PINE MOSTLY
WITH TWO ROWS OF CHECKER
SQUARES RUNNING SOMEWHAT
DOWN THE MIDDLE),
AND I AM HAPPY TO HAVE
A LITTLE WINE.
 
BUT THE SOURCE OF MY PLEASURE
IS THE WOMAN WHO SHARES
THE EVENING HOURS WITH ME.
WE TALK AT RANDOM.
SHE WASHES CLOTHES
WHILE I CONSTRUCT THE TABLE.
I CANNOT TELL YOU
HOW WONDERFUL SHE IS.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
                WHITE DRAGON
 
I WALK AWAY FROM THE LITTLE WHITE HOUSE
THE MOON FOLLOWS ME THROUGH THE TREES
IT SEEMS LIKE A DREAM THAT STARTED LONG AGO
      A DREAM OF YOU AND ME
            AND THE WHITE DRAGON         OH OH
                       THE WHITE DRAGON        OH NO
                         THE WHITE DRAGON
 
THE WIDE WHITE HIGHWAY HAS LED US HOME
THE MOON IS OUR DOME NEVER LEAVES US ALONE
IT IS THE END OF THE ROAD OR THE BEGINNING
IT'S ALL THE SAME TO ME
                   ALL THAT I HAVE
                   ALL THAT I AM
                   ALL I EVER WANTED
                   I GIVE TO YOU
 
ALONG THE BLACK ROAD DAFFODILS BRUSH MY FEET
A THOUSAND CATS RUN IN FRONT OF ME
WHOOPING CRANES FLY, IT'S A WILD WORLD
THE CITY STANDS TRUE, I BELONG TO YOU
              BUT THERE IS A VIBRATION  OH NO
                         A VIBRATION     OH YES
                        A VIBRATION        COMING THROUGH
 
STRIDING BESIDE THE STONE CHURCH WITH BLUE WINDOWS
REVELATIONS FLY AROUND LIKE SO MANY BALLS OF FIRE
AND I STAND HERE WITH NO DESIRE
BECAUSE THE DRAGON HAS STOLEN OUR FIRE
                 THE WHITE DRAGON     HAS SWALLOWED THE MOON
                  THE WHITE DRAGON    HAS TAKEN US TOO SOON
                  THE WHITE DRAGON     SITS ON THE HILL
                       LICKING ITS CHOPS.
 
 
 
 
 
 
               ARABIAN DOORWAY
 
WHO WOULD GUESS
IN THIS SIMPLE FRAME HOUSE
THERE WOULD BE
AN AMAZING ARABIAN DOORWAY
TO MY LOVER'S ROOM.
I OPEN THE LOUVERED DOORS
AND SHE SMILES, HALF DREAMING
ON THE BED.  (BLUE & YELLOW
LAMPS GLOW.)  A CANDLE FLICKERS.
BEAUTY MOVES SO SLOW,
SOMETIMES YOU CAN MISS IT.
A NIGHT BIRD CALLS OUTSIDE.
INSIDE SHE SIGHS, AND OPENS
HER SLEEPING ARMS TO ME,
SAYING:    BLOW OUT
THE CANDLE WHEN YOU COME.
 
 
 
                 ONCE LOVERS
 
SATISFIED WITH SO LITTLE
AND STILL WANTING SO MUCH.
THE TENDERNESS OF THE TOUCH.
ONCE LOVERS, THOUGH
ROUGH SEAS DIVIDE,
SPAN OCEANS WHEN
UNDER COVERS THEY LIE
SIDE BY SIDE.
 
 
 
 
 
              ARABIAN DOORWAY
 
 
Who would guess
    in this simple frame house
             there would be
            an amazing arabian doorway
               to my lover's room.
 
I open the louvered doors
     and she smiles, half dreaming
        on the bed.  (Blue & yellow
                lamps glow.)  A candle flickers.
 
Beauty moves so slow,
      sometimes you can miss it.
  
A night bird calls outside.
      Inside she sighs, and opens
           her sleeping arms to me,
              saying:  blow out
                 the candle when you come.
 
 
 
 
 
          THANKSGIVING DAY  '87
              LOVE & CORN
 
NO LONGER RUMORS THAT NO ONE IS AROUND,
ACTUALLY GLAD THAT THE ARTIFICIAL & PHONY
UMBILICAL CORD TO FAMILY AND SO CALLED FRIENDS HAS
BEEN SEVERED, I AM GLAD TO BE WITH YOU.
A WIDE GRAY DAY, WE DRIVE OUT IN OLD
DARK-BLUE ROAD WARRIOR VAN, GLAD TO BE SIDE
BY SIDE, RIDING AROUND TOWN, YOU WITH BLACK
STOVE PIPE SLACKS CLAD TIGHT AND LOOSE
STRIPED PORTUGESE FISHING SHIRT. A BLACK
COAT PULLS YOUR LONG HAIR CLOSE TO YOUR NECK,
AND I WITH LEATHER COAT & WRAP AROUND
SUNGLASSES, WE HIT THE PLAZA, CATCH THE
MOVIE, FATAL ATTRACTION, FRONT ROW, ACTION
SO CLOSE: RIPPING PASSION SCENES ON ELEVATORS
& SINKS, THE HATE & INSECURITY, THE DRIVE
OF DROWNED WOMAN EXPLODING OUT OF TUB
TO STAB, ONLY TO BE SHOT BY ANOTHER WOMAN.
BUT YOU, YES YOU AGAIN OUTSIDE, IN THE BRIGHT
GRAY LIGHT, AN AFTERNOON AT THE MOVIES IS ALWAYS
FUN, WHITE MARBLE FRONTS, 50'S PLAZA - AND
YOU LIKE BRIDGETTE BARDOT DREAMS OF BEING.
BACK HOME, TWO EARS OF CORN AND SOME
CHINESE NOODLE SOUP IS OUR DINNER, AND I'M
THANKFUL FOR YOU, THANKFUL FOR LOVE & CORN.
 
 
 
 
 
           HONEY COLORED LIGHT
 
HONEY COLORED LIGHT
POURS IN FROM THE WEST.
YOU MAKE YOUR OWN WORLD.
STRANGE MAYAN FACES
ON A WHITE JAR,
YELLOW LANTERN
ON THE TURQUOISE TABLE.
HONEY COLORED LIGHT BATHES
COURVOISIER, HICKORY,
A SILVER SNARE DRUM,
BROKEN IMAGES OF
LIFE IN CHANGE,
A CHANCE THROW
OF THE YARROW STICKS
I CHING STYLE.
THE RIVER FLOWS THROUGH THE TREES
A RIVER OF MOLECULES
A RIVER OF CONNECTIONS
AND CONTRADICTIONS & INFORMATION,
A RIVER OF POSSIBILITIES
AND HONEY COLORED LIGHT.
 
 
 
 
 
                   THE PERFECT SEAT
 
THE PERFECT SEAT
 
IN A HICKORY TREE
 
GROWING HORIZONTALLY
 
OUT OVER THE RIVER.
 
THE CHATTAHOOCHEE FLOWS ON.
 
RED/YELLOW LEAVES FALL
 
AND ARE GONE.
 
I SIT FOR A LONG TIME,
 
ABSTRACT BRANCHES
 
BENDING TO WATER,
 
UNTIL THE SUN GOES DOWN.
 
I LOOK UPSTREAM & DOWN
 
AMAZED AT ALL THE WATER,
 
THINKING ABOUT WHERE IT ALL
 
COMES FROM & WHERE IT GOES
 
UNTIL I SEE THE WORLD
 
AND HOW IT IS ALL CONNECTED,
 
CLOUDS & PEOPLE & LAND HERE
 
ALL CONNECTED.
 
 
 
 
 
 
                THE PERFECT SEAT
 
 
The perfect seat
      in a hickory tree
          growing horizonally
              out over the river.
 
The Chattahoochee flows on...
                red, yellow leaves fall
                     and are gone.
 
I sit for a long time,
        abstract branches
           bending to water,
              until the sun goes down.
 
I look upstream & down
        amazed at all the water,
           thinking about where it all
              comes from & where it goes
                   until I see the world
                and how it is all connected,
                 clouds & people & land here
                     ....all connected.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
INTO THE MAJESTIC
 
COLD DECEMBER
DOOR LOCKED   TOO MANY PEOPLE
DECKED OUT DAMES
& A DAZZLED SKY CRYSTALLIZED
FIVE O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING
INTO THE MAJESTIC...
DINER THAT IS
BLACK & WHITE STRIPES
OF A TIGHT DRESS
CONFORM TO THE CONTOURS
OF A BEAUTY
OF A PEROXIDE
WARHOL DREAM
AND A RATTED & TEASED
FELLINI RED HEAD
IN A BOOTH...
AT THE COUNTER
CARLOS CASTANADA
HAVING FOUND HIS SPOT
BETWEEN THE TWO FLAMES
THE TWO FLAMES THAT
ARE REALLY ONE
CARLOS TALKS TO SOMEBODY
DIVINE MAYBE
BUT CERTAINLY NOT VISIBLE...
 
 
 
THIS MUST BE WHAT
THE AFTERLIFE
IS LIKE, COFFEE CUPS
NOT FILLED OR EMPTY
AND IT IS OKAY
THEY ARE THAT WAY
PROFUSION OF  GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS
INTELLECTUALS & MUSICIANS
AT THE BACK TABLES
AND WILD ASSORTMENT
OF OTHERS
AT THE CROSSROADS...
 
A LULL
LIKE LIMBO
OVERCOMES
EVERYONE
JUST SITTING
NOT WANTING
NOT EVEN WAITING
AND THE WAITRESS ANGELS
ARE FLUTTERING ABOUT
ATTENDING TO ALL SOULS
 
 
 
 
 
 
            INTO THE MAJESTIC
 
5 A.M., COLD NOVEMBER,
NO, WHAT AM I SAYING,
DECEMBER, I DON'T EVEN
KNOW WHAT MONTH IT IS
AND I'M TRYING TO TELL
YOU SOMETHING. AT ANY RATE
THE DOOR WAS LOCKED,
TOO MANY PEOPLE,
DECKED OUT DAMES
& A DAZZLED SKY CRYSTALLIZED
AT FIVE O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING.
WIDE STRIPES BLACK & WHITE
OF A TIGHT DRESS
EMPHASIZE THE CONTOURS
OF A NUBILE BEAUTIFUL
PEROXIDE WARHOL DREAM
& A RATTED & TEASED
RED HEADED FELLINITE
SPRAWL IN A BOOTH
NEXT TO CARLOS CASTANADA
TALKING TO SOMEBODY DIVINE
MAYBE, BUT NOT VISIBLE
SITTING WITH HIM
AT THE COUNTER.
 
THIS MUST BE WHAT
THE AFTERLIFE IS LIKE,
I TURN & SAY TO THE GIRLS,
COFFEE CUPS NOT FILLED
OR EMPTY AND IT IS OKAY
THEY ARE THAT WAY.
SHE SAYS, ARE YOU FROM
AROUND HERE? I SAY YES,
AND ASK HER THE SAME.
SHE SAYS NO, I'M FROM ROME.
 
 
 
 
A PROFUSION OF GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS
INTELLECTUALS & MUSICIANS
ARE ANIMATED AT THE BACK TABLES
AND A WILD ASSORTMENT OF CRAZIES
AND DERELICTS AND IRREGULARS
AT THE COUNTER, ALL
AT THEIR CROSSROADS.
 
A LULL
LIKE LIMBO
OVERCOMES
EVERYONE
JUST SITTING
NOT WANTING
NOT EVEN WAITING,
WHILE THE WAITRESS ANGELS
FLUTTER ABOUT
ATTENDING TO ALL SOULS.
 
 
 
 
 
 
                 COLUMBUS
 
 
RED COUPE
DOWN THE ROAD
STAY BETWEEN
THOSE LINES
GEORGIA FLAT
COASTAL PLAIN
TO COLUMBUS
1492.
RIVER ROAD
STANDING BOY CREEK
IN PURSUIT
OF MY PAST
MY HOMELAND
KATE HEAD
OLIVER PIERCE HILL
CREEK INDIAN LAND
BUZZARD PERCHED
ON TOP OF LONE
CHIMNEY STANDING
WHERE A HOUSE
ONCE STOOD.
WEEHATTKEE DOESN'T
EXIST, UNDER WATER
ROAD TO NOWHERE.
STRANGE I REACH
FOR MY PAST
BUT THERE IS
NOTHING THERE.
FROLONA, MY FATHER'S
BIRTHPLACE, JUST
PAST ROOSTERVILLE,
HAS TWO HOUSES,
A COLLAPSED GAS STATION.
NO WONDER THEY LEFT.
                                                          GEORGIA 9/89
 
 
 
 
 
 
           FROM A DECK
 
A PINK SMEAR
IN THE SKY
THE IBM TOWER
HIGH
THRU
THE TREES
I THINK OF
YOU
I THINK OF
ME
I THINK OF
ZEBRAS & STARS
THE BLUE STARS
ON YOUR BREASTS
AS YOU LAY IN BED
I MUST ADMIT
I'VE BEEN HIT
BY THE MANDOLINS
OF YOUR EYES
BY THEIR SOUND
COMING FROM THE DECK
FROM THE SINEWY MUSCLES
OF YOUR NECK
 
 
 
 
 
        FROM A DECK
 
A PINK SMEAR
IN THE SKY
THE IBM TOWER
HIGH
THRU
THE TREES
I THINK OF
YOU
I THINK OF
ME
I THINK OF
ZEBRAS & STARS
THE BLUE STARS
ON YOUR BREASTS
AS YOU LAY IN BED
I MUST ADMIT
I'VE BEEN HIT
BY THE MANDOLINS
OF YOUR EYES
BY THEIR SOUND
COMING FROM THE DECK
FROM THE SINEWY MUSCLES
OF YOUR NECK
 
 
 
 
 
         THE SCIENCE OF TURBULENCE
 
Some say you can understand nothing about
the world unless you understand the science
of chaos, that is, that the improbable and
irrational probably and will definitely happen.
 
             from THE Reptilian BRAIN
 
Beginning to understand what makes me tick.
Instincts, sitting in a cool dark room like
a lizard under a rock, or out in the sun,
baking, healing; and so I begin the journey
to the center of my soul, duck feathers flying,
inside I'm dying, but still growing more than
ever. The Queen Beauty looks down on me, radiates
multicolored love and blesses me, protects me,
and I know everything will be alright. There is
a new peace inside me, knowing what it is like
to be alive and what I am supposed to do in life,
a feeling that time is a friend, and the knowing
that Life in the Oxygen of Time will run its course,
do what Life is supposed to do, no need to rush,
no need to hurry, because it will do no good, you
will not "LIVE" anymore than you are meant to live,
you may do more things, but your life will be just
as complete. To be on a beach of an unearthly misty
ocean and as far as you can see is the ocean;
and the beach, the sand stretches through infinity
and the roundness of the earth circles you, defines
the space of your life, there is a comfort in
knowing this, that I AM WHAT I AM, THAT AND NOTHING
MORE. CAST OFF THE UBERMENSCH, THE  STRIVING TO
BECOME THAT WHICH YOU ARE NOT, ACCEPT WHO OR WHAT
YOU ARE, AND BE YOU. THAT IS ALL YOU CAN DO. THAT
IS ENOUGH TO DO. THE NIETSCHEAN SUPERMAN/SUPERWOMAN
IS FALSE, IT IS AN ILLUSION, IT DOES NOT EXIST AND
CANNOT EXIST. DONíT SEEK PERFECTION, SEEK TRUTH,
REALITY, AND YOU WILL BE A HAPPY MAN, A HAPPY WOMAN,
AND KNOW THAT WORK IS A PART OF LIFE, NOT SOMETHING
TO FINISH, BUT SOMETHING TO DO.
 
 
 
 
 
                      DEVIL'S LANDING
                  un luegos santos
                  un memoriam      T.T.
                        (carved deep in rockface
                         near Highlands, North Carolina)
 
CLICK CLICK QUICK THE CAMERA
SNAP SNAP SNAPSHOTS CAPTURE THE SCENE
THE GRANITE LANDING
JUTTING OUT INTO SPACE
CLIFFS & RAVINES
WAVE UPON WAVE
OF HARLEQUINED PAINTED
MOUNTAINS & VALLEYS.
DIZZYING AUTUMN.
MAGNIFICENT CARPET
BEYOND PERSIA & THE ORIENT.
AT SUCH ALTITUDE
THE AIR THOUGH THIN
IS PURE, OXYGEN FRESH
AND NITROGEN HAZY BLUE.
MY SISTER SITS
CLAD IN RED
ON THE ROCK.
BELOW THE DIZZYING
GRAVITY DEFYING
MOTLEY COLORED FOLIAGE
SWEEPS DOWN DRAMATICALLY
& ROLLS UP BREATHTAKINGLY QUICK.
I WANT TO CLING
TO THE ROCKS
GRASP UNTIL KNUCKLES
TURN WHITE THE FEW
MOUNTAIN LAURELS
BUT I DON'T.
I KNOW THE LAURELS & I
BOTH WOULD BE UPROOTED
BY THIS FEAR.
TERROR SHEER TERROR.
 
 
I ONCE HAD THIS SAME FEAR
WALKING OVER THE BROOKLYN BRIDGE
THE DIZZYING NETWORK
OF WHITE CABLES & CITY LIGHTS
IN THE DISTANCE,
THE TENUOUS SHAKING
OF THE WOODEN WALKWAY
& THE CATWALKS LEADING
TO THE EDGE SEIZED ME
WITH MORBID TERROR AND
THE REALIZATION THAT THE ONLY
THING THAT KEPT ME
FROM THE SWIRLING BLUE
CURRENTS OF THE RIVER FAR BELOW
WAS MYSELF.
THE PAST & THE FUTURE
DISAPPEAR, DISSOLVE, COLLAPSE
INTO THE MOMENT OF FALLING
WHEN ALL GIVES WAY,
AND THEN ONE FINDS
THAT THE PRESENT
IS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL FEELING,
THE ONLY REAL TRUE FEELING,
AND ONE STANDS & BREATHES
DEEP FRESH AIR,
HAPPY TO FIND THE WORLD
PLEASANTLY VAST & LOOMING LARGER
THAN EVER BEFORE.
 
 
 
 
 
DEVIL'S  LANDING
 
un luegos santos
um memoriam    T.T.
      (carved deep in rockface
        near Highlands, North Carolina)
 
Click click quick the camera
    snap snap snapshots capture the scene
the granite landing
         jutting out into space
             cliffs & ravines
                   wave upon wave
                        of harlequined painted
                            mountains & valleys.
                              dizzying autumn.
                              magnificent carpet
                             beyond persia & the orient.
at such altitude
the air though thin
is pure, oxygen fresh
and nitrogen blue.
                           my sister sits
                           clad in red
                           on the rock.
below the dizzying
     gravity defying
 motley colored foliage
sweeps down dramatically
& rolls up breathtakingly quick.
                             i want to cling
                             to the rocks
                              grasp until knuckles
                             turn white the few
                              mountain laurels
                              but i don't.
                                              i know the laurels & i
                                            both would be uprooted
                                                  by this fear.
                                               terror sheer terror.
 
 
I once had this same fear
   walking over the brooklyn bridge.
        The dizzying network
           of white cables & city lights
                  in the distance,
the tenuous shaking
      of the wooden walkway
               & catwalks leading
                  to the edge   seized me
      with morbid terror and
                   the realization that the only
                        thing that kept me
                            from the swirling blue
                               currents of the river far below
                                         was myself.
the past & the future
        disappear, dissolve, collapse
                 into the moment of falling
                      when all gives way,
and then one finds
    that the present
       is the most beautiful feeling,
            the only real true feeling,
              and one stands & breathes
                 deep the fresh air,
                         happy to find the world
                          pleasantly vast & looming larger
                                than ever before.  
 
 
 
           SOLAR ECLIPSE
 
ECLIPSE OF DOOM.
THE DAY IS PAINTED BLACK
THE DAY BECOMES NIGHT.
OMINOUS CRESCENTS
THE RINGS OF DEATH
CHOKE ALL LIFE.
APOCALYPTIC SIGN
BIBLICAL REVELATION
PREPARAT PER OMEGA.
THE PULPITS SHAKE
BENEATH THUNDEROUS HANDS
SHOCK AND FEAR
IN THE EYES.
THE GLOBE'S OCEANS
ARE BLACK
THE DAMNATION IS COMPLETE
THE EXHORTATIONS TO REPENT
RESOUND REVERBERATE & ECHO
LIKE A VOICE IN FALL MOUNTAINS:
UNTIL SILENCE JUST AS AWESOME
RETURNS & THE SUN IS RESTORED
TO FULL BRIGHTNESS & THE FOLIAGE
THE MYRIAD COLORS OF LIFE
RED GREEN GOLD, ORANGE YELLOW BROWN
BURST VIBRANTLY ON THE SCENE
CARS FLOW DOWN ROADS & CHILDREN PLAY
AND THE MYSTERY OF LIFE   REMAINS
INTACT,   UNSOLVED.
 
 
 
 
 
SOLAR ECLIPSE
 
Eclipse of DOOM
     the day is painted black
        the day becomes night...
                     Ominous crescents
                        the rings of Death
                         choke all Life.
Apocalyptic sign
      biblical revelation
         preparat per omega...
                          The pulpits shake
                              beneath thunderous hands
                                shock and fear
                                   in the eyes.
The globe's oceans
      are black
     the damnation is complete
           the exhortations to repent
                 resound reverberate
                     in the skull
                      & echo
                    like a voice in fall mountains...
Until silence just as awesome
     returns & the sun is restored
               to full brightness & the foliage
                    the myriad colors of life
                  red green gold, orange yellow brown,
                    sienna earthtones of tranquility & delight
                             burst vibrantly on the scene
                          & cars flow down roads & children play
                             and the mystery of life      remains
                                intact...      unsolved.
 
 
 
 
 
                 GRINGO
 
GRINGO COME WALKING DOWN THE STREET
CONVERSE ALL STARS ON HIS FEET
BAGGY PANTS CRAMMED INTO BLACK SOCKS
OLD COAT SHAKES LOOSELY AS HE ROCKS
 
BLONDE HAIR CLOSE ON THE SIDES
FALLING DOWN INTO HIS EYES
BOLD NOSE BOLD CHIN
BOLD MOUTH BOUND TO WIN
 
GRINGO CAN'T HELP IT
IF HIS FATHERS RULED THE WORLD
GRINGO DOESN'T MIND GIVING IT BACK AGAIN
IT WAS MORE TROUBLE THAN IT WAS WORTH
 
FIRST WORLD SECOND WORLD THIRD WORLD
LOST IN A SWIRL ONLY THREE OF MANY WORLDS
 
 
        
 
 
               Voice from Anna's Portrait
 
 
       the rain has left me forsaken
          
        without hope upon the wall
          
            Caressed by Aphrodite,
 
          as before when I was held,
  
      I lift upon the wind my feeble cry.
 
 
 
 
 
 
          70% of ME
           70% of YOU
 
OH THIS SWEET LIFE,
SO SUBLIME, BLISSFUL,
BUT IT MUST BE SAD
FOR IT DOES END.
REST?  DIVINE RAPTURE,
EVERYTHING INFUSED
WITH A LIGHT
BEYOND COMPREHENSION?
UNKNOWN UTTER PAIN?
 
Life so magnificent
the air so wonderous.
A rose petal brushed
softly across your lips.
Bach, and Chuck Berry.
And water soothing quenching
cleansing, growing plants & trees,
& most of what we are.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
70% of ME     70% of YOU
 
OH THIS SWEET LIFE
SUBLIME, BLISSFUL,
BUT IT MUST BE SAD
FOR IT DOES END.
REST?  DIVINE RAPTURE,
EVERYTHING INFUSED
WITH A LIGHT
BEYOND COMPREHENSION?
UTTER UNKNOWN PAIN?
 
Life so magnificent
the air so wondrous
a rose petal brushed
softly across your lips.
Bach, and Chuck Berry.
And water soothing, quenching
cleansing, growing plants & trees...
& 70% of you & 70% of me.
 
 
 
 
 
 
                          THE TRUCK ROLLS ON
                                         OR  JONAH   &  THE WHITE LIGHT REVELATION
 
 
ALL COLORS
TAKING IT ALL IN
THATíS WHAT MY FRIENDS DO.
ORPHANS ALL, NO PAST
NO CLASS, NO NICHE NO HISTORY
TO DELINEATE & DICTATE ACTIONS.
ATTORNEYS WITH CHINA WHITE
& DECKED DAMES AROUND GLASS,
ATOP SKYLINE REVOLVING RESTAURANTS,
IN PORSCHES, BMWS, AND ROLLS ROYCES,
GIVE LITTLE THOUGHT TO THESE
NOMADS ON THE SPACE OF TIME.
 
HEAVY METAL TRUCK DRIVE NIGHT
QUARRY DUST IN DRY MOUTH SPIT
THREE HEADS IMPALED ON A STICK
A BEGGAR, A SAINT, & A FOOL.
THEY ARE EQUALLY AT HOME
AT A FIREWORKS STAND ALONG THE ROAD
OR DINNER WITH KINGS & QUEENS.
AND WHAT ARE THEY SUPPOSED TO DO?
BORN WITH NOTHING, DYING WITH THE SAME,
THEY LIVE WITH TRUMPED UP DREAMS
AND DON'T TREAD ON ME FLAGS FLYING.
 
WHITE LIGHT GUIDES INSIDE THEM
AS THE STARS IN THE DARK SKY
RUSH BY UNPOSSESSED,
BLACKNESS BEHIND, BLACKNESS UP AHEAD
(EAGLE FEATHER GUITAR SLIDE RIGHT HERE
IN THE HOT BLOOD, PACING LIKE A TIGER
IN A CAGE TO WRITE THIS.)
 
AHAB'S HEADLIGHTS SEARCH
BUT THE NIGHT IS THICK AS A WHALE.
IN THE BEAST
IN THE BELLY
YOU CAN'T FAKE IT.
THE GEARS OF THE UNIVERSE
ENGAGE AND TURN.
WITH THE CLANG OF METAL
AND THE HAZE OF REVELATION
THE TRUCK ROLLS ON.
 
 
 
 
BICROBATS
FUNK & FLASH
IN THE WILD STYLE
 
FUSION MERGING COMBINATION OF MAN, BALANCE,
MACHINE & GEOMETRY. FROM A DISTANCE THE WIDE
WHITE ALUMINUM SPOKES OF THE SMALL CIRCUS WHEELS
ON THEIR MODIFIED BIKES, WITH FREE TURNING
FRONT FORK CAPABLE OF SPINNING THE ENTIRE FRAME,
GEARS, REAR WHEEL SEAT AND ALL A COMPLETE 360
DEGREES WITH THE POINT AT WHICH THE FRONT WHEEL
TOUCHES THE GROUND BECOMING THE CENTER OF THE
CIRCLE, FROM A DISTANCE THESE HOPPED UP
ACROBATIC BIKES AND THEIR RIDERS ARE SLINKY
SLICK & COLORFUL CUTTING AND CIRCUMSCRIBING
FLASHY MOTIONS IN THE SPRING AIR, LIKE DANCERS,
THE SLEEK MACHINES AN EXTENSION OF THE RIDERSí
BODIES. COLORFUL SHIRTS, FUNKY HATS STRIPED &
BRIGHT,CHECKED FOREARM PADS, SPIN WHIRL GLIDE,
STRETCHING INTO POSITIONS THAT SEEM GRAVITATIONALLY
IMPOSSIBLE:  handstands on top of a bike
jacked up on its front wheel while the rest of the
bike rear wheel on the ground spins around below
the arms of the rider like a wing bit boring
into wood, wood chips & sawdust flying, the flashing
of sun on shiny white frames thrown out into
the spectators' eyes, reflected back toward
the blue sky. There is normally a cyclone fence
nearby wherever they ride, perhaps to ground
the sparks & lightning of their gyrating rotations.
 
UP CLOSE IS ANOTHER STORY, still fluid the motion
but the clank & clamor of machine as they are
yanked or spun into contorted positions by the
force skill & thinking of the riders, no English
boy invention here, Black, Hispanic, some Irish,
Italian, INNER CITY KIDS GOING NOWHERE REAL FAST
WITH GREAT FUNK & FLASH & REAL STYLE. RAP MUSIC
PLAYS ON & ON. THE PRECISION, the importance of STYLE.
 9/1980
 
 
 
 
 
                           GIRL FROM NORWAY
                             or Smeared Lipstick
 
The sky was gray except for a red streak
that ran like lipstick smeared at a random
angle across the wide space down to the
blonde hair of Britt Hotte who walked down the street
with her black coat, little black boots and lunar skin.