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| Doors Miscellaneous 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 |
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