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Poems From The Village Reading

IN THAT YEAR...



In that year we had a great visitation of energy.

Back in those days everything

was simpler & more confused.

One summer night, going

To the pier, I ran into

2 young girls. The

blonde was called Freedom,

the dark one, Enterprise.

We talked, & they told

me this story.







& THE COOL FLUTTERING



& the cool fluttering rotten wind

& a child's hand-print on

picture window

& the guncocked held

on the shoulder.

& fire in the night

waiting, in a darkened house

for the cruel insane breed

from town to arrive

& come poking thru smoke

& the fuel & ashes for milk

& the evil leer on their faces

barking w/ triumph

Who will not stop them?

The hollow tree, where

we three slept & dreamed

in the movement of

whirling shadows & grass

Tired rustle of leaves

An oldman stirs the dancers

w/ his old dance

darkening

drift shadows lean on the

meat of forest

to allow breathing



Gently they stir

Gently rise

The dead are new-born

awakening

w/ ravaged limbs

& wet souls

Gently they sigh

in rapt funeral amazement

Who called these dead to dance?

Was it the young woman

learning to play the "Ghost

Song" on her baby grand

Was it the wilderness children?

Was it the Ghost-God himself,

stuttering, cheering,

chatting blindly/

I called you up to

anoint the earth.

I called you to announce

sadness falling like

burned skin

I called you to wish

you well, to glory in

self like, a new monster

& now I call on you

to pray:







LAMENT FOR THE DEATH OF MY COCK



Lament for my cock

Sore & crucified

I seek to know you

acquiring soulful wisdom

you can open walls of

mystery

strip-show



How to get death

On the morning

show



T.V. death

which the child absorbs



death-well

mystery

which makes

me write



Slow train

The death of my cock

gives life



Guitar player

Ancient wise satyr

Sing your ode

to my cock

caress its lament

stiffen & guide

us



Lost cells

The knowledge of cancer

To speak to the heart

& give the great gift

words



power



trance



This stable friend

& the beasts of his zoo

wild, haired chicks

each color connects

to create the boat

which rocks the race



could any hell be more

horrible than now

& real



"I pressed her thigh

& death smiled"



death, old friend

death & my cock

are the world



I can forgive

my injuries

in the name of

wisdom



luxury



romance



Sentence upon sentence.

Words are healing.



Words got me the wound

& will get me well



If you believe it.



All join now in lament

for the death of my cock

a tongue of knowledge

in the feathered night



boys get crazy in the head

& suffer

I sacrifice my cock

on the altar

of silence







A WAKE



A wake

Shake dream from you hair

My pretty child, my sweet one

Choose the day, & the sign

of your day,

1st thing you see.



A burnt tree, like a giant

primeval bird, a leaf,

dry & bitter, crackling tales

in its warm waves.

Sidewalk gods will do for you.

The forest of the neighborhood,

The empty lost museum, &

The mesa, & the Mt.'s pregnant

Monument above the newstand

where the children hide

When school ends







CURSES & INVOCATIONS



Weird bait-headed mongrels

I keep expecting one of you

to rise

large buxom obese queens

garden hogs & cunt

Veterans

quaint cabbage saints

Shit horders & individualists

drag-strip officials

Tight-lipped losers

& lustful fuck salesmen

My militant dandies

all strange order of monsters

hot on the trail of the

wood vine

We welcome you to our

Procession











THE CROSSROADS



Meeting you at your parent's gate

We will tell you what to do

What you have to do

to survive



Leave the rotten towns

of your father

Leave the poisoned wells

& bloodstained streets

Enter now the sweet forest







I WALKED THRU...



I walked thru the panther's living room

And our summer together ended

Too soon

Stronger than farther

Strangled by night

Rest in my sun burst

Relax in her secret wilderness

This is the sea of doubts

which threads harps

unwithered

& unstrung

Its the brother, not the past

who turns sunlight into glass

It's the valley

It's me



Testimony from

a strange witness











THE FLOWERING



The flowering

of god-like people

in the muted air

would seem

strange

to an intruder

of certain size



but this is all we have left

to guide us

Now that He is gone







THE WILD WHORE LAUGHS



The Wild whore laughs

like an ancient spinster

Crone, we see you, come again

in the mind

I lie like fever

Dancing your nubile hush

willing to be possessed

untold stories

dare injuns rise

Trampled, like red-skins

sacred fore-skin

Cancer began w/ the knife's

cruel blow & the damaged

rod has risen again

in the East

like a star

on fire

Doors

Poems From The Village Reading / Doors

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