ACROSS THE RIVER, HADES IS VISIBLE
newcomers hold their hands over their ears trying to draw sound from silence
the hollowed emptiness of the soul, the hum of death faded away
Tag: words
——ONE DAY OVER AT BOB DYLAN’S HOME HE SHOWED EVERYONE HIS MOST CHERISHED POSSESSION, THE ARK OF THE COVENANT WHEREIN WAS A GOLDEN POT AND AARON’S ROD WHICH HAD BUDDED——
I was the only person who got the vapors
I could smell the promise of eternal inheritance
redemption in a pool of blood
the errors paid in full
30 MINUTES AFTER BOB DYLAN’S BIRTHDAY GATHERING
PLACEBO TOWN: SOUP KITCHEN STREET
half way around the final curve of reciprocated love
a trivial sex life playing in a near-empty cinema
ambling through daydreams of walking upright
the phone ringing, curious magazines
begging for photographs
would I bend over
for a close-up ?
dreams about having a packed suitcase
ready for a quick getaway
met a new man today
fabulous shoes
long, long toes
he was like the best cigarette I ever smoked
instantly I was charmed and crazy in love
how divine to combine adrenalin
and pure meth from a lab
twice, the Olympic stud
(+) I heard him in the bathroom weeping
——BRING OUT THE ADONIS-LIKE MAN SO HE MAY BE SACRIFICED——
FOR ONLY THEN WILL THE GATES OF HEAVEN OPEN
We turn our backs to Christ
and we long for him
it is so difficult to reflect on the past
to be honest about shortcomings
to express failure without heartbreak
what man or woman stands tall
and confesses to be a monster
to have produced monster children
we fail to harvest, we rape
our intellectual imagination
harbored in the ports
of animal sex and violence
our Attendant Spirits are no longer clean
if necessary, within a dance-drama I sing
BRING OUT THE ADONIS-LIKE MAN
SO HE MAY BE SACRIFICED
——ERECTION CREAM GIVEN OUT TO THE HOMELESS——
I had no idea that there were homeless in Placebo Town
standing there in line for some free erection cream
the gentlemen in front of me
were discussing what a marvel of engineering
the Mars helicopter had turned out to be
the bingo card inside my head exploded
MARVEL ?
a simple way to put out forest fires
(+) with the erection cream came one pair of rubber gloves
and a list of instructions:
- don’t eat the cream
- don’t get cream in your eyes
- wear gloves to apply
- erection may be painful
- be mindful of your partner
——PLUMBING——
prayers for something to compensate
collect on the ground like fall leaves
walking graves in motion
biblical differences and similarities
no one can hide their genitals at the Gate
Old Testament marked preference, divided, numbered
lovemaking: a poorly remembered version of the same thing with almost no friction, rhythm being the best one could hope for
television suggests that the arts have gone astray
music just vulgar noise movies without subject matter lacking a beginning and a proper end
actors have forgotten how to recite lines
white poets write about their sex and drug habits white poets who have outlived senior citizen recognition
blowing kisses to Jagger in his space socks
older adults rarely free of restraints
given
upside down medication
they salute one another with the finger
using sturdy thick blackguard words
from another era, another location
oral sex therapy
after lunch
Robert Frost and Machine Gun Kelly, I need not dramatize
I need not dramatize the presence of dangerous gases
in their bloated egos
Robert was an enemy of modern times
he kept court with “manly” roles
Machine Gun Kelly was outside bending over
in the showers
bending over outside
the realm of anesthetics
at one time
too young to know the penalties
of fast living
the foretaste of death
rumored to be a hangover
from sustaining life
who was I to speak of sustaining life ?
who was I to play parlor games
with the foretaste of death ?
——
sitting outside the Central Market in Poulsbo, Wa
if I called the poison center would they send help ?
angels whispered, “shake it off”
senior citizens sipping coffee
“Aqualung” playing in the background
just a pinch and reality kicks in
a poster of Allen Ginsberg naked
on the back wall
no one seems to notice
the size of a greyhound bus
with bad body hair
the Beat Babylon Poet
if only he had sodomized Robert Frost
sodomized him without an anesthetic
(+) block #1
every day starts out with agents knocking on doors
asking questions
agents in the field with flashlights
investigating shadows
details
no detail is too small
poets start the day
with Ubiquinol and meth
the lungs of history are inflated
CONVERSATIONAL POETRY 