This is the second day without anyone. I am chinning against a dark sky to strengthen my arms. A picture of everyone I love passes through me. No clear light streams thru this cell. There's no dawn. What have I gained by lying in this abyss, waiting for the masonry to show a little slit for my soul to get through?
Oak oak! like like it then cold some wild paddle so sky then; flea you say "geese geese" the boy June of winter of again Oak sky
Break it all down! We're too mesmerized to break from this vampire, America.
When I button my fly I button it wrong and I laugh. My crotch looks lopsided.
What a beautiful storm! Infinite thunder! Wishing to be home No wonder.
The ghost of Spring has reappeared, clearing my throat of winter I make the first move
Nobody can get inside me until the angels get there first. A vision stands scratching his wing on the other side. Two angels fly among the trees. O ocean that stops my blood O sun! That dries it up O clouds that carry it off and the courage inside our tough organism that loses life so easily. Think what you want about the uselessness of art for art's sake, or science as a social metaphor. Neither can change this world or become a comrade to the enslaved embittered masses or a ruby in the elite crown of the greedy few. That is why nobody is allowed inside me until the angels bring their defiant message to reconstruct the resumption of life everlasting of love, of hope.
The sun disappears behind hills, a white light still remains. No pink or red or orange with tight purple streaks, through a white cloud. I suddenly feel we can never be destroyed, but I know otherwise. It's only a daydream an overwhelming breeze a constriction that I can't see opening up in the heart on a warm evening.
All this summer fun. The big waves, and waiting (the moon is broken) for the moon to come out and revive the water. You look and you want to watch as men feel the beer breaking on their lips, and women seem like the sun on your little back. Where are you closer to everything? in the plants? on the photograph or the little heart that's not used to beating like the waves' foam? A wasp is looking for a hole in the screen. No. There's no man in the lighthouse. There's no woman there, but there is a light there; it's a bulb. And I think how complete you are in its light. Flash......... Flash..... .................................... And I think of how our own room will smell; You lying on one bed and we in the other, facing the... flash..... .....................Flash
Nothing exists that does no empty. Who are you feeling? Who do you bite in the morning? Our health? when we're sick is the body coming. Our love, a mountain fuming in the ocean like a graceful race such as black. When the shores overtake in the continent. When the heroes are phony, and our house less than rubble will there be a bite, a memory still left?
You light like a flashlight something through the west of worn shades. All this great fun and you like a dark of misunderstanding only bring a large sample of green while people dance to rock and roll in spanish. All the littles on the wall watching while the parrot and the dog again sleep. The moon like a stopped cannon ball: so little difference between us. I search the corners for you and I am drunk in a park or a hallway at night. Being in the street is being gone in the largest apple in the universe.
There are no dinosaurs but man suffers still more. Morning, roaring tiger of trying to keep. In the engine silo, there are no dinosaurs of pain that are hurried enough: Morning Star!
See the black bird in that tree trying out the branches, puzzled. I am up there with you puzzled against the rain blinking my eyes.
"Are you an eland?" Yes! Yes! She ran off to the primeval forest and there gave birth to an eland Her husband holding the calf to his chest ran to the hills: placed the beautiful child in a fault which was surrounded by other faults among the hills / While the child grew, he (the husband) created all the animals and ways in which the animals were to be caught; and also the wind which was to follow the animals being hunted Their child, the eland, had grown horns and only the sun was more beautiful than he But other sons of the father of the eland crossed the little calf in his sleep and killed it because it was more beautiful than anything they had ever seen. Their father who had created all animals tore off the noses of his sons who had killed without knowing what they had killed. But later saying "No I won't do this," put their noses back on The wife cleaned her pots and put the blood from her dead eland son mixed with the fat from its heart: and stirred, stirred then sprinkling it about, each drop became an eland which ran into the woman with his horns See! you have ruined the eland: and thousands were made And the father ordered the sons to hunt the elands and to see whether they could kill one But Cagn, the father was in the elands: and none could be killed: because they were even faster than any cloud sonne bell Sonne guilt like the unrosed stark Ecstasy gen d'alume no world disbanishment unlook See! See! occident am the sky To cistern insist we lie Swim, World! deja everything already and see Peaks grand the fruit soleil o turbule wept for lily oh see That nights Border irreverant sweet for wounds like the careful orion and blooms Is the sky husk moldy unison newal o please? Sickle mads pro other weak reef annoy mew among o sway tones musing at Lo lo dull off the forest, moon frozen. Emptier that shook. Oh upon of songs Breathe! grateful soccer monet churning oh savage of must Overboard! small laquel embraced Once are the alley easily of supine once stood! bad! suffer and village! O scarcely verge o stings Where is a new beg of morning matin? "yes" of the hand? delve sky against Nude mandarin d'etoile A tour of slept Slept!: the pacific the vine of orange of sommeil Mads of dawn! Rape of you you.... o the autumn sand Mounting! O dive! song song restay fairness of dawn. That cry of booze that sparrow of soul "miradel" unique justly lotus nothingless char of sunday. Vicious of moon for the actual. Live digress Old like the praise cast still at day Assuage of rose of eye lovingly sun O sun with the dreadful of kind Man! full! of the organ of move Shoulder are the vines are the plus are the autumn of found are the fallen blank are the aussi the loping soon the wet blank the soleil les fleurs the Force of rainbow shout the fishing quell quell. River of sacred pitifully fairly admiring cane from cane one enemy sings to find to bird oh ladel of fix oh severally plund of cruel, like mars for my earth, like loom for the understand. To need am the fly The breathe no pavillion to this pain. Nape, so the precipice is june But for the villanous level joyous as the town so play *Spring and Summer 1961