.
.
they're building a statue of a dead admiral downtown
the only material they're using is water.
*
there are three bicycles inside me.
*
i am watching a man on a ladder pasting white paper over a billboard advertising toothpaste.
he has just covered up the nose and is working downward.
*
"hands/that cannot move/unless to hold"
the blues train toots its horn.
.
.
.
they're building a statue of a dead admiral downtown
the only material they're using is water.
*
there are three bicycles inside me.
*
i am watching a man on a ladder pasting white paper over a billboard advertising toothpaste.
he has just covered up the nose and is working downward.
*
"hands/that cannot move/unless to hold"
the blues train toots its horn.
.
.
.
She fastened her coat and said, we are living in a wound
He fastened his coat and said, yes, and we are in this wound past our waists
she said, let's move out to the country
they still have fairgrounds there
and we can play at being pigs
and we can play at being horses
and we can play at being mountains
and we can play at being people
and we can play at being flowers
and then she said, what are you doing in there
you've been in there ten minutes
and he said, I'm writing a poem
and she said, what's it about
he said, it's called The Country is a City with Less People.
and she said, and we can play at being streams
and we can play at being rocks
and we can play at being heart
we can play at being soul
we can play at being bodies
we can play at being earth
we can play at being sky
and then she said, what are you doing in there
you've been in there ten minutes
he said, I'm re-writing the poem
and she said, what's it about
he said, it's called We can play at being wounded!
and she said, I know! We just did!
.
She fastened her coat and said, we are living in a wound
He fastened his coat and said, yes, and we are in this wound past our waists
she said, let's move out to the country
they still have fairgrounds there
and we can play at being pigs
and we can play at being horses
and we can play at being mountains
and we can play at being people
and we can play at being flowers
and then she said, what are you doing in there
you've been in there ten minutes
and he said, I'm writing a poem
and she said, what's it about
he said, it's called The Country is a City with Less People.
and she said, and we can play at being streams
and we can play at being rocks
and we can play at being heart
we can play at being soul
we can play at being bodies
we can play at being earth
we can play at being sky
and then she said, what are you doing in there
you've been in there ten minutes
he said, I'm re-writing the poem
and she said, what's it about
he said, it's called We can play at being wounded!
and she said, I know! We just did!
.
...
a squirting eye, a squid melting in the alarm-clock brassiere
stone fish of impassable lake....... the frog-dry buttons in a beerglass betray the ninth dimension
the way boots of straw are channeled by the hungry and futile grass.
the pen is the stilt the hired-help clown walks on ....& he closes every door behind him a bestiary of sunrises devours my cornflakes
Iowa's footdoctor of sand and rare butterflies
who will sing the rain into a bucket when your ravished toenails have swallowed the landlocked island with its 7 stars
........................4 tulips
........................3 radios
........................2 balloons which are your arms as well as your eyes which tear up floorboards and keep me awake all day
when nothing is undone a person cannot return
racoon .....lost armpit..... saliva drooling of a placid ocean suprise
chess-pieces eat the hole of elephant ridgeway
sugared dolphins bake in wooden cauldron
big horses eat pastried villages of mushroomed canvas
stretching the day into a coffin, pulled by the cloth of the time-sky, blue ribbon for the dolphin
....................................................................I am the dolphin who kneels at your feet like a candy-bar
...................................................................in a test-tube of wheat policemen
dressed up as both star AND stargazers......to sublimate the Hamlet's toasted bagel of submarined kindness
white gentle furniture around a golden coffin
inside rests the collection of military tea-cups.....stolen by the girraffes of wednesday
to support the heroin habit of a deckchair......clamped shut for nineteen years by the moon of tears
.
a squirting eye, a squid melting in the alarm-clock brassiere
stone fish of impassable lake....... the frog-dry buttons in a beerglass betray the ninth dimension
the way boots of straw are channeled by the hungry and futile grass.
the pen is the stilt the hired-help clown walks on ....& he closes every door behind him a bestiary of sunrises devours my cornflakes
Iowa's footdoctor of sand and rare butterflies
who will sing the rain into a bucket when your ravished toenails have swallowed the landlocked island with its 7 stars
........................4 tulips
........................3 radios
........................2 balloons which are your arms as well as your eyes which tear up floorboards and keep me awake all day
when nothing is undone a person cannot return
racoon .....lost armpit..... saliva drooling of a placid ocean suprise
chess-pieces eat the hole of elephant ridgeway
sugared dolphins bake in wooden cauldron
big horses eat pastried villages of mushroomed canvas
stretching the day into a coffin, pulled by the cloth of the time-sky, blue ribbon for the dolphin
....................................................................I am the dolphin who kneels at your feet like a candy-bar
...................................................................in a test-tube of wheat policemen
dressed up as both star AND stargazers......to sublimate the Hamlet's toasted bagel of submarined kindness
white gentle furniture around a golden coffin
inside rests the collection of military tea-cups.....stolen by the girraffes of wednesday
to support the heroin habit of a deckchair......clamped shut for nineteen years by the moon of tears
.
Now is the storming of the heavens of armchairs and black woolen hats. The last ejaculation of spirit. They never promised me anything -- what did they promise you? No doubt you have it. A plane flies low over the street. I crouch down -- how could i do otherwise? Rent is due on the 1st. Please send me $500. I'm not joking, reality is serious. I will be crushed, humiliated. Max Ernst appears six feet from me. He is holding a blue bowl. There is no money in it. There is flame, and I swallow it. Now I am dead. I go out for a cigarette, and stand in the next doorway. A woman immediately arrives to go in the door. She has a blue shoulder-bag and she is holding a large blue empty crate in her hand. In the other hand she is holding a leash connected to a large dog. She barely glances at me, but the dog stops and turns round to look at me directly with big soft brown eyes. I decide I will put him in a picture. He will be holding a boot in his mouth. The sky is the crackling of a whip. Beneath the paraphanalia of your needles is my BLACK FOREST and my BLUE QUEEN. I am so at home it hurts.
.
.
GREEN CUP
by unspoken agreement they went for a long walk without moving
ELEPHANT
storm is was now is razorblade is so i will build a boat but first i will get a razorblade
and cut a 4-inch verticle line down your thigh like slicing an envelope
and i'll watch the blood running down to my little unicorn-men my little unicorn-men
who come to play with me when i am alone and they can make paper-boats and float in there
and they can make snowmen and no matter how big the snowman was they could put it in an old wooden boat with no oars and no sail and it wouldn't sink because of your blood it would float
ELEPHANT
storm is was now is razorblade is so i will build a boat but first i will get a razorblade
and cut a 4-inch verticle line down your thigh like slicing an envelope
and i'll watch the blood running down to my little unicorn-men my little unicorn-men
who come to play with me when i am alone and they can make paper-boats and float in there
and they can make snowmen and no matter how big the snowman was they could put it in an old wooden boat with no oars and no sail and it wouldn't sink because of your blood it would float
.
horse horse my ringdom for a horse horse eskimo horse land around which the sun circles like a mouth horse now is the victory of the valley the silent rope called hands horse coffee-table boxing ring black velvet floor we weep on horse the silver coinage of the sky horse billowing penises horse billowing vaginas horse orange balloons of tenderness horse the oninon'd embrace and the blue bowl of a head
how slow
lhow slowly the soldiers deploy their generals of oil and hair
tulip asteroid
turn the sick petals from the porch
savory lamplight of river
the eggs of your eyes
i would rather floating bridge be than the crossroad of the sun
2 stone pillars
stare, then crack
butterfly of book is open hand
i collect ex-marines like apples
tulips
a tiny stone
.
don't come any closer
or ever leave me
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Dear Salami, its easy. we were lied to. what, you mean, we were LIED TO?! yes, the box is open. The universe-jungle, spilling its tendrils out...
it should not be hard for you to
stop sometimes
and look into the stains on walls, or ashes of
fire, or clouds, or mud or like places,
in which... you may find really marvellous ideas
Science is the Captain, Practice the soldier.
yes, sorry bobby's tour was cancelled. I've got him in the basement. I feed him on snow baked by moonlight. we both agree it still glistens. he's teaching me how not to sing. i'm reading him
the collected works of che guevara in italian.
as long as the duct tape holds, its a great example of mutualism.
you know, like rainforests.
.
.
.
.
.
oh, and another thing...
.
Dear Salami, its easy. we were lied to. what, you mean, we were LIED TO?! yes, the box is open. The universe-jungle, spilling its tendrils out...
it should not be hard for you to
stop sometimes
and look into the stains on walls, or ashes of
fire, or clouds, or mud or like places,
in which... you may find really marvellous ideas
notebooks, leonardo da vinci
Science is the Captain, Practice the soldier.
leonardo
yes, sorry bobby's tour was cancelled. I've got him in the basement. I feed him on snow baked by moonlight. we both agree it still glistens. he's teaching me how not to sing. i'm reading him
the collected works of che guevara in italian.
as long as the duct tape holds, its a great example of mutualism.
you know, like rainforests.
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