|
|
IMACULATE I've been abused by the Virgin. I know no one will believe me. But She did. She diddled my whanger. When I was just a little boy. It's why I call my right hand Mary. This is because purity is my downfall. I lust for purity. I"m horny for the VIrgin. She abused me and ruined my life but still I have fantasies about her with her mouth on my pee wee dont't even have hair onnit yet. Locks are for honest people. Any thief will tell you that. I've been abused by the Virgin and now no woman is good enough. My pecker will never be hairless again.
in my dream god drove his caddy into the swimming pool which became an aquarium with a restaurant around it here it sat with ornamental fish swimming in and out the windows and bubbles rising out of the tailpipe. Security was tight. Sunglasses and hearing aids all clicking and respectable but made it hard to walk the check
Twenty-Three Degrees Perfect i don't tarry and Let's shoot for the stars past the orbit of mars let's put our fast ivories on fluted exposition and tear the van allen belt down like a curtain to shame the aurora and flip magnetic north to twenty-three degrees perfect the angle of re-entry to the WOMB OF MOTHER EARTH
Can I Just Do It Till I Need Glasses? gonn blind goin blind if god wore shades and took dictation goin blind goin blind i'd make him type for me goin blind goin blind with god's descriptions on the sticky keys goin blind goin blind stroking full bore the flesh machine goin blind goin blind jettison my juices my perilous cargo goin blind goin blind
How do you put the edge on a Friday? or do you beat it like a wife or do you tickle and seduce it or minimize and reduce it or just smoke and joke and gen'raly abuse it?
yes
i'm tracking the shipment by GPS in tiny beeps i could have the hearts of pigs or sheeps but all my lifted passion sleeps until I get that heart for keeps
What's This Woman Want From Me? I've given her my heart; I've given her my soul I've given her my paycheck, my sweet rock n roll I give her my lands as far as I can see What does she want? Love poetry I'd give her my spence acount before I pad it I'd give her a nine inch nail if i had it. I'd give her what I been, what i'm gonna be What does she want? Love poetry I'd giver her a red dress and watch as she flaunts it I'd give her a hard time if she really wants it I'd build her a house; I'd plant her a tree What does she want? Love poetry
The Hallway (a bad dream) There was a party in my dream and you were there with me like a fragrant iris in dilation camera and who I talk to and who you do both on a leash of eyes tethered and swimming in the social sea. our hearts are hooked by bungee chords fiber optic elastic pasta hairs harvested from angel scalps mine tugs every time a man looks at you that way and you pull a gentle pluck of reassurrance on the wound string with the plectrum of your eyes' warm and hazel note. we came to the soiree in my nightmare's limosine towing our histories down the haulway and it was a long hallway so long you knew there were mirrors at the ends and nothing like a party for vanity and pride and the whole entourage of venal sins but the cardinal is pride. they gave me horns and bade me play but the reeds were dry and pads were missing from the flutes and my embechure is not helped by campari so I look for you and some tequilla and a slice of lime in your mouth which I know all the men lust for in it's membranes and it's praise. In the way of dreams my mouth won't play music just make flip remarks and you won't have it that way and walk down the hall of our sedimentary marching tango my palms are visable as I try to spin you it's the time of night when the booze won't back down and neither will we head to head the unison of lost compromise your back is turned my arms are crossed you take the limo i'll walk up and down the hallway and listen for you to call me back the hallway is long and has it's lonely sections pride is slamming the doors they call it cardinal because it's red and god the hall is so long without you I have to call my dream a nightmare. almost... yes it is not bavaria but baden where the dialect sounds like the in the sawdust in the
sawdust in the center ring of the universl circus clown standing on one wheel juggling
stars and galaxies of unequal weight make the movements buzz the rhythm galop thru the cycle's beat swiss and
alsacienne way to talk yes, pine cones sometimes together with some sunwarmed stones and
mossy dreams those warm stones are easy caress the hands dreams would float like scarves have good mass and are friendly round i could tell you unicycle was an astrophysical description
of the universes turns or half a bicycle or a reference to the circular paths we tread as
individuals or the cycle of unity that spirits inscribe in the sawdust in the sawdust in
the center ring of the universl circus clown standing on one wheel juggling stars and
galaxies of unequal weight make
the movements buzz the rhythm galop thru the cycle's beat while the motion of the hands
silence the mind empty it open it - what what is a unicycle?you've got better juggulars
than me almost... yes The Poet's Dirty Socks Are you READY to fall in love? I mean are you READY? you are not a silly young girl at least not sillier than I require how do you look when your hair is rolled up and you're pulling the poet's socks from the dryer? Cuz the poet's dirty socks are just like any other dirty socks and we have to go through do you snore or have the pox? and who has keys and who has locks list your real estate list your stocks what was in that little black box? and before we cum we're on the rocks And I tell you it's all because of socks Cuz the poet's dirty socks are just like any other dirty socks
Guacamole in My Flute I woke up with guacamole in my flute Semi-gringo jazz with trill and expectations. Then I remembered the inner surface of your lower lip. I wanted to conquer it with my suction. Like Everest on a clear day All my sherpas cheering. There was the tiny speck of tostada mounted in guacamole gaushe gesso on my lip plate. Impressionistic green on silver My Fuzzy Flute My Raspy Flute My Flute Smooth as Lotion. Blow that guacamole, white boy.
Ode to a Picture on the Internet (Is There Sex After Adolescence?)
my needs are few: a pack of smokes and a bottle of beer a modicum of food; a shred of tea. My dreams of you. my dreams so full I wonder if you are necessary too. are we either one necessary to the other's dreams? character by character you paint the picture pixel by pixel you whet my lust line by line you bind my heart image by image you build my trust I want to watch our pictures making love the ones of us when we were young we'll watch them like a pornograph when you were tight and I was hung. Your breasts are like champagne glasses it overcomes me; but it passes the dog don't growl and the cat don't purr if you're not better now than you ever were.
The Ballad of Dori Danger Dear Friends there is a woman on the internet who is stalking me I am telling you this because we are so close and because I want documentation of these proceedings. Her name is Dori Danger and she has a smokey voice she has painted fingernails and drives an old Rolls Royce with lake pipes and metal flakes and you don't know the time it takes to answer her emails. And the helluvit is I think I love her but I don't wanna blow her cover she's a girl detective and her life is perilous and I'm so cynical and querilous that I just don't know if it's in the cards I got bars on the windows and dogs in the yard but still she's in my email box and even thought she's a fox my mind is full of pith and doubt listen, can you help me out If I get kidnapped by a stranger her name is Dori Dori Danger Dori Danger the poetry detective is most aloof and most selective She sleuthed a case with Guy Noir They met up in a seedy bar on the East Side of St. Paul minnesota she got drunk before she'd sipped her quota drinking vodka and DP soda being accostomed to white wine but they were hell for leather and solved the case together and told about it on NPR
Hump Year Blues Only the Rattlesnake: nefarious blues reptile, would give Bukoswski for a birthday (but I had dreaded this day for months) And I woke up thirty Sure enough certified last chance for adulthood in this culture Jim Erwin Blind old scotch bastard lika father to me peering through spectacles thick as a drunken tongue told me: "If you don't make it by the time yer thirty--- fergit it." So that made me run like hell for a time-- being twenty seven or so What is this "making it?" Does that mean your pecker is forever enshrined in some Glass Temple Vaginal Joiced Eternal Twat Monument? Do they freeze your seed for some Lucky Mother yet unborn when you make it? Do you get embalmed in pleasure, a mummy wrapped in property? How do you know when you make It? Is it a little gray-suited clerk from th government withletters you have to sign for? Do vioins swell on the soundtrack? I think I made it several years ago when those Mexican kids left 8 cents on my doorstep for a flutesong I played. So, I don't know about making it but for sure--I ain't gonna fergit it. Cautiously I approached this morning's mirror I couldn't see any lines that weren't there before I wasn't graying, balding or receding or for that matter noticeably older in any way but when I came across that pimple on my nose--- that fixed it Fuck this thirty year old trauma I have MADE it for thirty years--I have survived this asylum circus murder university soap opera for three decades not only that--I'm doing damn good for it I'm healthier than I was when I was twenty can fuck longer, do more drugs, don't need to prove nothin I'm a happier person than I was at eighteen or any age and all day long I walked around with a thousand dollars cash in my pocket Thirty Ain't Bad
Short Eyes My posture's fucked; my back is gettin outta whack Got boodshot eyes; I live on snacks I peek through the screen like I'm a criminal all the messages you send are subliminal It's yes oh please yes then no again no send me some pictures; every buck has his doe and for my money you can call me honey and tickle me with your digits I can be the battery in your long, vibrating widget you can do wet finger tricks and I can beat my meat and we can fuck in cyberspace and never ever meet. repitition is a marvelous tool and experience keeps a dear school you're a ninny if you don't use it any if you use it too much you're a fool Guns, Chainsaws and Electric Guitars I wish someone had forgot to invent them when I'm in the presence of you it's like fire in the presence of oxygen it feeds me like the very gas of life and I consume it like your sweet petals so longingly curled at the edges spread to the sun in the afternoon relaxed limp and fragrant on your thighs these are the choices you can be my friend for life or you can be my lover and my wife because we will take one look at each other and we'll know which it is but either one will bless us to the grave simple as click delete or save
Is it a Nation? or bunch of kids playing in the mud on acid with too few port-a-potties? Did Max Yasgur have a clue? "think we can keep this problem localized upstate" said the city boys watts and chicago on their memory screens and they already had a think tank working on how to co-opt the hippie thing and make some good american hard cash outta these urchins. On the shelves and in shrink wrap before the mud even dries at Woodstock
The Lesser Things yes the lesser things drat scat romeo in fickle licence for firearms and a rock of goddamned if I do or goddamned if I don't want a lonely thing more than the lesser things St Paul was a bureaucrat democracy loves a winner Justice of the Piece
I don't doubt that there are things I've nevr dreamed but I've dreamed a lot drat scat romeo in fickle licence for firearms and a rock of goddamned if I do or goddamned if I don't want a lonely thing more than the lesser things when I get half hard pass out from that much blood leaves my brain LIGHT headed fanatic crutchin his way to gods condominimums wide eyed looking for you can't get my pistol warm fore dawn in the sike ward less you make that little groan and your throat is my scabbard jus my luck o the irish coffee grounds and tea leaves mute wetnesses we need witnesses the power went out whole neighborhood eerily quiet life stops first time in months with a pen in my hand and in an instant of interruption am back with my illegible scrawl on the back of an envelope promising Your Free Gifts minds me of the old days when all poems were scribbled not tapped and ink made its fluid contiuity on the page or matchbook or napkin liquid bleeding into the paper brushed by an actual hand Five, Six, Seven dis is so twisty doeween we are like lookin inna mirror and all the parallels make us disappear right before our eyes from lookin at each udder an our gay sister husbands that we love so much an us steady tryin to cupid em up an our bright eyes an our seedy past all reason to write with the lust we have for this world both fulla dreams and big ideas for our age in luv n panic bove all suspicion on da gamey boards just to take a look at each other but we already knew we couln't get our pinky rings unhooked. Jinxed Sisters
Jinx
When Jinx pads into the room you are sure he means absolute business not only cuzza the ring onnis pinky but just by the way he moves like if you fuck with him he's gonna claw the curtains down and you may feed him but this is HIS house and at times he just walks around making sure of that wid siamese confidence blue tipped and regal in his bearing.
Jinx is a Made Man in the mouse control business which he uses as a front for his real occupation as agent for the International annif he has politics he ain't talkin about em but you can see his libertarian stripe a mile wide right across the two xx's on his forehead when he purrs smile When Jinx walks you can hear the string bass and touch of high hat as he moves like a jazz intuition through the changes predatory and elegant making perfect sense like Miles in cashmere blues stroking his own pedestal convincing you too
Plastique Love you are an explosive Mass smuggled aboard my plane waiting to go in all directions taking down seats and wings and passengers excess aviation fuel to ground zero scattered in the field zone of impact and nobody said let's roll to crack the conspiracy but I have to think it would be better if we made it a SHAPED CHARGE
Tension is what makes sexuality work comfort breeds boredom. Conflict is what makes drama and mating and death are the subjects of all poems. To make good poems or good lives we must ask ourselves questions and not be satisfied with the answers in spite of their reason and convenience. And question nothing like you queston an answer.
The Case For Rating Riots on the Richter Scale (The R.King verdict was a short fuse because it held a lens on the fact that Justice is not to be had in our criminal court system. The bomb that fuse ingited was packed with the frustrated fuse of a different awareness--that Justice is not to be had in our economic system, hence the explosion of looting and violence against property.) L.A. blazes lika kundalini kamakazi galoline arson delights twinkle like fairyfires over the anchorman's shoulder and not a peep from the President about his thousand points could this be them? When the verdict came down obvious as a fuse clear as a barracuda in a martini what the city was an unlikely pack of mongrel dogs trying to organize itself for the purpose of bounding across the prarie in a yapping moonlit orgy of predation mongrel democracy on fire nervous ascendancy of yelps wolverine politics with clawstrokes a riot beneath every breastbone rumbling As the patrolmen cruise in their compacts like Kafka jellybeans rackmouted fear & shotguns buzzing insect confections waiting on plates at some twisted teaparty hatesteeped hatters so close to mad it hardly matters if arson or just plain chaos touched the place off Much as the San Andreas fault shakes it up on occasion just to release a little tension So when things get stacked up shaky in the social order you expect a little rumble at the faultline where Justice grinds along against economic stress at about the pace of continental drift. You figure a place this top-heavy is due for a looting. Don't you know all our nextdoor neighbors are latent criminals? wound tight with tectonic tensions tight as gunsprings tight as the earth with her plates grinding like a teenager's teeth? Human seismic upheaveals are commonly predicted by geologic hysteria some expert or another always knows it's about to happen. Screams are often preceeded by Muttering And the troops are called out and ready for the aftershocks (they threaten to shake the store shelves clean) with gangland greed or bleeding need while every politician has his call for peace and reason as if violence never began with calm justification The Description of an Automatic's Muzzle Flash as a "Point of Light."
The Perfect Taco I love to eat more than I love to fuck If what I'm eating is the Right Taco If they put tacos in catalogues and you picked them out by sight I'd know in a mexican sec just which one was right by how the edges curled around on the folds of the tortilla and how this part here is soft and this part may be a little harder if I press with my tongue to test it and it smells like smoky meat and when you nest it in lettuce all around and then the sauce is what really makes a taco shine with jalepeno fury and the hotter and the pinker the better it is to bury your face in that Perfect Taco
To A Young Poet nine years is not long enough to see poems in every corner or out the window is another world of wonder for your eyes if poems are about pain and beauty and poetry starts in the eyes you are ready for a world of laughing shining love alicia skips and dances and plays hopscotch on one foot and jumps her rope and dresses up the cat for fun she gathers up poems like easter eggs and saves them in a basket. One day she will hide them in the world.. been awhile since I wasted time thinking about love if i wrote poetry like that when i was nine I would be alicia jr poetry spider all arms and legs and imagination ok alicia i told you i would tell you why I am Lightning Rod i was standing on my head one day because I am a yogi. Ask your mom what that is cuz it's not a bear with a friend named booboo Yogis like to stand on their heads because it's funny and because it gets the poems going inside (same place you keep them) Anyway there was a thunderstorm going on And when the lightning struck it came in my feet and went out through my head. It tingled It was a thrill like chocolate. It didn't hurt because I was so relaxed and I loved the world. Long time ago they used to build barns very tall barns and the lightning liked to strike them because they were very tall and when the lightning struck the barns it burned them down then a man named Ben Franklin who you will see if you look on a hundred dollar bill invented the lightning rod which was a piece of metal on top of the barn when the lightning struck the metal would conduct the bolt to the ground without hurting the barn it showed the lightning an easy way to the ground what all this means is that if you are straight and simple and true relax and don't fight the world the energy of heaven will come through you harmlessly think of me when you see a hundred dollar bill
i understand what words can do and people don't like those that curse them but can i say those words to you if I simply reverse them? and if my tone is exclamatory it's certainly not defamatory frontwards Fuck You is declarative reversing it makes it imPERItive
Come Where? perhaps just at the corner of your mouth and you can feel me warm and salty and running slow as taco sauce down your chin or maybe on your shoulder where it drools down to your bosom and i lick it hungrily and bring it back to your mouth. Or I could sprinkle it on your abdomen and watch spread it with your hands and take it to your center or I could shoot it like man made diamonds into your soul.
The Pedestal Louisianna smells lush and swampy with a tinge of salt around Pontiatrane and down by buorbon st. smells all frenchy look at that place just under your soles that's the place to be---the road I woke at the mirror to taste myself and glare into my own eyes that I wish were your eyes and wish again that the silvered screen was my window into you transparent as a goddess in rapture Do I see myself in your pedestal? Did I sculpt it jackhammered michealangelo a thing to place venus upon or did I blow it like a steubenfaberge lacework of glass so crystal clear you look to be standing in air? Can you perch on my word?
Freaky Dave is Defunct I sure hate it when my posse grows and today it grew by one my posse is sort of like my spiritual back up group My Pips Gladys is something anyway but the Pips sure help the line of my Pips gets larger year by year. First John was back there snappin snappin his fingers sayin go man go man go you're doing it for me and then more over time then OP and Will and James and Virginia who plays the piano with my hands it's a chorus of snaps now snappin snappin No time to waste No time to waste You live for us snap snap Now Freaky Dave is back there snappin snappin his fingers in line my posse holds me up and pushes me on towed by my fellow travelling souls but i sure hate it when my posse grows.
Terminal Case
you could die en utero or maybe strangle during birth you could suffer crib death be tickled and die of mirth you could be hit by a car or a truck or a bus you could be bombed by a terrorist it could happen to any of us. You could be stalked by a madman and rendered the sum of your pieces or drop into a frozen river and lose your homeosteessis or even be infected with tropical diseases or parasites or cancers might secret in your creases but this is all i'm saying my fundamental thesis is Somethin's gonna gitcha you can smoke too much or you can drink too much or you can risk too much or you can fuck too much or you can eat too much or you can worry too much or you can see too much or you can know too much you can jog too much or you can even pray too much but guess what? somethin's gonna gitcha you can be born blessed or you can be the best or you can be well dressed and wear a plume and crest and do your job with zest eat only chicken breast get sufficient rest have challenges and quests be a good host to your guests and leave them all impressed and still somethin's gonna gitcha
|