Big strange machinery
the golden triage uniforms
A grin in the gathering violence
triage, out under the leprosy trees
traveling the violent part of summer
heartbreak the Atlantic
convalescence in a new england hospital
there's no escaping stephen king
on the bookcart tonight
all of the pretty white nurses
bearing syringes of comfort
dawn in a darvon tornado
dawn with the underwear nurses
traveling back to Atlantic
Prowling up and down the canal
Prowling down the canales
Poling up and down the canal, Poe
Linguine and bookmarks
Bookmarks floating in the canal
Ping and poe
Sling and sloe
In the twilight of the last supper
lawyers and their drawers
lawyers and their briefs
lawyers and their sawyers
jesus was a sawyer
jesus was a lawyer
he clerked at Antipas, Nicodemus and Snood
paralegal in galilee
before passing the bar in 34 AD
he was a very bad lawyer
which is why he returned to carpentering
and why they left it out of the bible
a sect of Syrian heretics
called the Lawyerites
formally debunked at Nicaea
still sporadically hunted until about the 12th century
alien homeowners
like a chestnut frankenstein
daring young flies in their manning machines
Your peregrine passion
Tuna in a blue canoe
turkey at a minstrel show
Shudder & discombobulate
Open up your panels like a martian lander
Let your new soul roll out on the red dirt
Life will outlive you
And you will outlive life
All of you will outlive life
till the summer games subside
the teeny little summer games
A good day for harpies & seaplanes
Tell it all to mellifluous Lynn
Rolling around there in her flour
With her flowers in her hair
It's walkie-talkie weather!
Thunder in the mail. Thunder in the mall. parental thunder in the mall.
echoing down the oilstrand sculpture. Echoing down the starlight
escalator.
Thunder in the starlight mall
Thunder in the starlit mall
Thunder over China
Partially thunder genocide in the open panorama halls, full of feeny
monster frequencies -- the philomel windows, starshine windows piled
atop the skylight pillars and the monster frequencies. Frequencia for
the policia. Scanner on the plain of Spain. Anarchy in spain. Nation-building
in spain among the spanish nationalistas.
Boiling anarchy spilled out into the fire, fatty anarchy. Anarchy
devised by fat middle-class bourgeoisie. Communism devised by the
bourgeoisie! They alone had the time and the inclination. Intellectuals
with too much time on their hands, then men of power and action ready
to kill. Intellectuals ready to revile their own -- communism rose out
of self-hatred. Hatred of their own class.
The night is running with power. Powerlines under the stars. The wires
for the watts. The valves for the volts. The conduits for the ohms.
Ohms running from yard to yard over the back fence. The washline of
power hanging up in the trees and stars. Hanging up in the startrees.
Like bell trees really.
The hydro hedges
The fabulous jackstraw gods
The famous jackbox gods
Staircases & starcases. Bedbombs & bruinsticks. Dumbsticks, bumsticks
in my bedtime -- good thing I got my diapers on! I'm only a few months
old, goddammit!
The kennedy doofuses
Torch tips
The bovine archives
Stars over the bovine archives
A bolus of opera
Out in the libretto containers
Stars mired in glue. Horses in the stars. Making the stars into glue.
They pull them down one by one. Sneaky men hiding on the very last
mountaintop. Poach the stars in canvas bags. Next night, the sky is
noticeably blank in one area -- and meanwhile, they've stilled up a
batch of starshine. It's all so backwoods gents can get rip-roaring
drunk! Or "starry", as they call it.
THE EXPULSION
Timothy Liu filtered through me
Time will cook our darkest memories
As phases of ex-lovers start to faze.
Nothing to hide, lithe beneath the trees
Lingerie in a surreptitious breeze
Wishes blown to the edge of the wash
Tide will erode our fond memories
As angels descend with phials of ease
Relax in the love our bodies have made.
Places to hide & sleep, to kneel release
Proffering prayers in delicate ways
Now: to appeal the delicate laws
of a nature betrayed, legal decrees
and loopholes of some habeus corpus--
at the gates of Eden with apple-stained teeth
watching Jehovah with his shovel and pick
trudge off to dig his very first trench
dangerous sunbathing
a fine kidney day
a day for kidney pie and pools
the whole chromium host
numinous chromium
tickle ten years
ferocious economy pie
obsidian manufacturing.
Obsidian micromanaging...
go on cuckoo
tickle Kiki
cuckoo tiki
koo-koo kiki
kooky kiki
In a world of alien dead men
Starlets of stiletto death
Pieces of a broken broadcast
Rewelded into radiowave art
copies of the chain letter sky
clouds sent east...good luck!
Into the world of words swerves a savior. A certain circus performer in
a luminous disguise. Not tricky words, but nutritious words. Swishing
around in the mindsnifter.
The world of swerves
avers a savior
into the world of swerves
swims a savior with a knife
the tailor swerves
watch your sack!
jesus shaves
with a sharp sharp knife
dleeding girls, senter soriasis. Sent her to soriasis camp. Center for
the psoriasis girls. Sore from all that surreptitious sex. Better in
the dark with the psoriasis girls. Better in the dark with the
flakynipple girls.
Honest with the johnson girls. She's an unrepentant johnson girl.
rocksoff intoxicating! Roxoff intoxicane. The korngold mormons.
The many early centers. Typing a trance. Filling out a trance. Filing
out in a trance. From the metal movie theatre. From the motive theater.
To take the metal girl to the movie theater. Alive at the moive
theater. Moire pattern all day at the metal motive theater.
Things we don't normally hear about -- the sudden family of a day at
the beach. Minute impressions of the book Rich Man, Poor Man:
I don't go for talk like that, you French cunt
No disturbing the driver. State law.
Careful, Angela, your titty's showing
The smell of cooking meat
Piss on it...throw it away...
His erection was sudden and swift and huge; a pylon, a rifle barrel.
incarceration
The divine hulks of paradise
The boys in proletariat room 6
Tallying up the war crimes
Lenin at Finland
a man of action & revenge
a son of steel and innards
Polishing up the firmament
The furry old firmament
Hoary and starstrung
they only shine by Soviet decree
My favorite show in the 70's was THE DRIVER. Don't remember it? This
guy driving a souped up Chevy Nova...never knew where he was driving
to, but he was always driving somewhere. He'd pull into some flyspeck
town, and sometimes even a big city like Omaha or Baton Rouge, and
before you know it he'd be involved in some sort of trouble... and he'd
always get out of it in the end by some car chase, stunt, or trick or
other.
And the cool thing was that sometimes he'd even die! Yeah, one week, it
shocked the hell out of me -- in the end there was a fiery crash, and
he was dead! And then the next week, like nothing'd happened, there he
was, driving again!
watch me crack up watkins
watch me wake up watkins
drop a neon bomb
on the city of tokyo
tokyo goes up
incendiary neon
the neon incendiaries
the diaries of the neon incendiaries
tangerine eclipse
clue two thousand
a flash of ocean
orgies of the non-bodied
down on personality creek
losing layers by the lethe
feeling younger all the time
then nothing
then the glorious return of my real personality
lost oh these many man years
strumpets and their cool advice
lions and their calm advice
their calm lying advice
lying in the warm advice
Surmounting Death
After all the sound and fury, a sudden recognition: holy shit, I'm
still around!
The busy mind that can deny what every cell already knows. Those funny
little cells, clucking their tongues. The vast libraries of voices
throughout time and space trying to tell us this is only an island, and
it helps to be familiar with the ocean because one day you'll set sail.
We work so hard to excrete a vast calcification shutting off eternity
at all of the bone windows. We do it for very important reasons, and
yet there's no reason at all not to bear in mind that it's all a game
and that we're immortal plenipotentiaries sojourning in flesh.
Reopening the bone windows and really seeing the dimensionless within
that each of us has grown uniquely to house. Vatgrown in the waters of
eternity, those little tubs by the seashore which steam in the evening,
fossiliferous limestone baths.
We're fossils, each one of us, a long dead, neveralive protophylum lost
somewhere in the crack and crunch of continents, subducted over the
eons of geologic time. We're Leon of the Eons, a guy with a drawl and a
guitar, stomping continents and twirling up gyres in the ocean, tuning
down to the key of Flesh.
And all of us who sojourn in flesh do so because we really goddamn like
it and many of us are sybarites of one stripe or another. We can all
identify with Satan because we're all fallen out of the light into
thickness and sins of the flesh and we can all identify with Jesus
because we have a purer nature, and we all are deceived there are the
two of them when there is only one.
This is what you must realize: Jesus IS Satan. Jesus is Lucifer, fallen
from heaven, fallen into flesh to fulfill the promise of Heaven.
Lucifer, son of the morning star, light-bringer -- is this not exactly
what Jesus is? Satan appeared to Jesus? You bet -- that still small
voice murmuring temptations of his own vast power to own the world and
everyone on it, which Jesus refused (it's just the church that did it
on his behalf and is still trying). Satan never appeared to Jesus, he
just whispered from within. Satan ain't got no body! He's just a
pussywhip ghost.
Why are we here? Cosmic masochists! The masochist and the lord of
hosts! This is the place to find pain, and we like our pain. You can't
have pain without the chemicals to mediate it, and we're fuckin
beakers! We're retorts, alchemical retorts, trying to transmutate water
into wine. Water into sunshine. Transmuting spirit into flesh and back
again since 10 billion BC. We're just fuckin cosmic thrillseekers,
kiddies, like it. Of course the thrills have meaning, but meaning
totally unlike what we're used to. Totally dissimilar to our lessons in
school. What are the pieces that build a soul? I don't know.
What do you build a soul out of? Energy I guess. We're energy
sojourning in the river. We're energy in the magma, cooling off a bit.
We're energy in the summer, steaming on a beach. We're jesters of
destiny capering around in bones.
And in the end quite chopfallen.
It's amazing to me those who embrace the emptiness and the void and
think we're a cosmic mistake of some sort, the capstone on an infinite
series of coincidences. It's amazing and totally understandable because
this is not a place for complete knowledge of the infinite. It's a
crawlspace for illicit adventures and tales of quotidian repression.
The flint and spark of time and space, for tales of righteous
indignation and conflict that create wholly unheard of new universes.
Versions of unity, versions of unison, the venison of unison, and here
we are to hunt and kill and eat it. Where else can the universe
manifest in a deer and run from itself to be hunted down in fear and
pain and eaten in an endless recapitulation of disunion and unison?
Peter Unios will tell you. Gary Gnosis will snicker and chide. Annie
Anamorphosis will paint her face and chuckle and smoke. Chuckling and
smiling we'll be led beside the lake and washed clean of our bodies,
standing there smoking in pools that were our bodies, smoking in the
pyres of our old little Hindu bodies.
How can we feel the thrill of godlessness and the titillation of
separation! Standing on our shaky legs, standing on our snaky knees,
feeling the power god felt when he first climbed up the table leg and
then let go. A cockless cuntless orgasm of possibility that then
invented cocks and cunts. A blinding white shattergasm vomiting up a
whole new thing, atoms and ass, sunshine and shade. The shing of
sunshine from the scabbard.
Do you see that bird up there? said Arjuna.
Krishna could see nothing.
Arjuna cocked his bow and let forth a flight of arrows.
There fell to the earth a cage of arrows in which was imprisoned a
startled white bird.
The two regarded it for a moment.
Arjuna undid the arrows and set the bird free.
It hopped on Krishna's shoulder, plucked a strand of his hair, then
flew off with it into the heavens.