MANY, TOO MANY

Grids of roads of streets of lines
Of dots of points of atoms of matter
Of dust and soot and stone and vapour
Heads of figures peopling everywhere
Talk of this talk of that talk of the universe
Small talk serious talk chants and prayers
Gossip sighs street talk and smiles
These ears snatch tit-bits from left and right
Waves upon waves of sound pearing thought
Needles sharp or softly wombed words
Listen and listen
Ocean of ideas well and sleep
Clogging or clearing what it is still too early to say

SPACE

I need a blank sheet of a room
Studio rectangular and neat
No clothes no bed no nothing
Quietness of whitest white
And a drop of sucked black ink

Street Car Light City

For anyone who ever felt confused restless angry intimidated strange or lonesome.
And for anyone who loved the Beat Generation.



Whirlwinding it down alleys and high-streets and towns and cities
With cheap beer and little swigs of whiskey and gulping and smacking
And so many cigarettes sucked on and chucked in gutters and side-streets
We ran like neon lights zipping through our bellies and body we felt it
Cocking our heads jerking gagging spitting shaking epileptic gone bonkers
And staring largely at whizzing passing shakes of spherical light balls
That looked like Mother Earth shimmery awesome wild so beautiful
And we jumped up and down raising toasts to the striking sky red indigo
In our thin high voices gone and sweet kiddy and pure to the startling shine
That buzzed our ears and blurred our eyes into pinpricks of warmth and honey
We breathed long and hard and heavy we grew restless like monkeys
Scratched our snouts and tapped our concussed beat heads some few times
Then off onto another glowing train of thought that grew like a train in a tunnel
Racketing it down monstrously cracking down on our brains fast and staccato
Until it held us and we held on to it hobos on the last ride out of hell
We found soul and strength love and the meaning of life wrapping us up
Tortilla chipped in the bacon of mother and humanity feathered in shelter
We closed our eyes we went off to sleep in a nanosecond or a lifetime or death

Animal

Yes I want to be this animal. Twisting my neck around a truck of tree and curling my legs around my head. I want to be a real live monkey.I want the skin stretching against my bones so I can jump around and feel young and light and free.

Pinpricks of happy eyesight. Thoughts standing stock still. A tiny dipstick of Puri and Sirsi

THE LOTUS DREAMER

A stablehand, a stable-boy,
He walked home smelling of horses,
He wore smears of dung on his hands and face.
As he walked, he shuffled and stared,
But the lake was shiftless silent still.
He sighed all the way home.

He dreamt of softness and of touch,
He nestled beside the scratchy hay,
When he woke up- another day;
He’d listen to the horses neigh,
He’d bang and bustle about with buckets
Of mush and fodder that the horses fed;
He’d bend and split his tailbone.
He was the stable-boy with the sturdy hand.

Coldness invigorated his belly today,
Today would never diminish to yesterday,
He would see the flowers today.
The lake would people with lotus blossom,
And their pink petals would frailly dance;
And I will rest my head there,
And my neck against the leafiness ,
And the water will cool my form,
And wash away my stains and smell;
And I will float lazily on smooth as stone
As I fall into dreams of standstill time.

COATLICUE

Seething in serpent’s skirt and necklace of hearts
She walks unseen in the shadow of Tenochtitlan;
Queen of the red earth, her presence is everywhere.
She stands watch over the horde of humans
Ascending the temple born to feed her hunger,
Born out of trembling arms and steady mouths.
“Oh Divine Goddess of Birth and Death,
We unleash the blood from our tongues
For you have let your own blood run
Till your body ran dry and you were reborn.”
“We offer you a kin of flesh and blood,
Tear her with your claws and be contented.
Our farmer hands have threshed the corn
Day and night we have worked to eat
But only you can hold the blow of disaster.”
“We are the servants of you the Gods,
Bowing to the children of Ometecuhtli,
For you are the predeterminers of Destiny.”
She watches silently their gloried ritual,
She toasts to her fellows from the Pantheon.
These that clung to her heavy breasts at first,
Nourished and replenished by her flowing milk,
Now kneel in deference to her duality,
Now prostrate in full surrender to the deity
Who consumes their bodies and wears their skin.