Dec 5, 2017

Devotional iv.

Stop thumping, Heart, don't strike.
I've had enough of you.

And yet my brain would like
Naught better but to screw

The screws more tightly, saying,
as far as I can tell,
Cease your insipid sighing,
silence that rebel yell.

We've just begun this journey
into ever-night,

all knights summoned to tourney.
Welcome to the Light.



12.5.17



Aug 31, 2017

Kouros 1

Desert. He was one of us.
He was not one of us. Time is a
straight plantation.
The 

road lies straight ahead,

and way ahead, the pass. Where
the dying sun cracks
like an egg on the shoved-up
hills or mountain, split,

the Earth (vulva) through the
crack come the two or
three riders. And a storm
coming. Tho they never

come, but are arriving. Stage
right, a small town. Barber,
candy, coffee, whisky & wine.
Wood. Smell of nails. Smell of

copper. Blood? Sure. Quadrupedante
putrem sonitu quatit
ungula campum
. No grass.
Grass, weed, sure. Curtains

close, casement windows 

shoved down. Put 
my fist thru one of
them, went to

Dad, sd, Hit him next time, not
my windows. Blood in the sink.
Blood from my
left hand. What does daddy think?

That's the question. Whether 'tis
nobler to punch or
not to punch the
brother, the other.

Fuck it. Forget it. Water
under the bridge over
troubled water under the
viaduct, over there, we

see grass and mosquitos,
& daddy w his waders in
the deeper water fly fishing
& we were bobbing bobbers under

the shadow of the bridge—
Hart jumped into the
water, from the ship, wrote a
poem the Bridge. Bridge. Break on

thru. Jim, you sd
we can walk thru any door,
& I sd that two, here
 is your choice,

be it a landscape?
Harbor.
Boats.
Sails.

Herman way up
high in the rigging, and
the White Jacket. Harpooners.
Ocean.

Night,
neon groves,
and the Garden—
find Swinburne for

Tintagel. Algernon knows of which
I speak - rocks, down, downward,
shale, ocean turning its pages, silver
white foam seashell, like lace, sd
 

Walcott, come along, Omeros,
come along, Carl, come along, 

young & nude in labyrinths,
castle turrets 


o'er the queen's-hand
-waving 
Oak leaf.
Tabernacle. 



8/31/17 - This is a draft.

Aug 20, 2017

Kouros 2

3 for this work. But what. wait.
No, I dint hear    you
back of the mind
back door man

but that's someone else.
Sancho? No. Led
Zeppelin. Hole oughta
Love

That was Jean Paul
the Hole
(cunt)
mouth

in his. It must be nice
to occupy a chair
in a Paris cafe
& write

It must be nice. Eye
wood never
no.
Janet &

Christmas Snow
in a Santa Monica
apt. Not bungalow, where
they

go down slow. Jim,
have you? Probly knot—
witch
knotty pine

who sang of those poor men drownd
in the Edmund Fits
Gerald & Gerald fitz
Michael who

hears a hoo
elephant  
o (Spanish: or) oliphaunt by the weigh
me down

under
please Father call me
home Abba O
nevermore

no need, the
black byrd
Elizabeth & heavens ta      !
Betsy

William !  (william)  birds & imposters,
william
Jim—
           let's

8.19.17

Aug 12, 2017

Kouros 3

That big swaggering Adonis
don't do shit for me,
on that building,

where was it. It's in the
spaghetti
in yr head, sir

I want to
disentangle. See? si
seen your

image all over.
Who cares? You think
anyone living cares. Of

coarse not. &
yr father did find you
a better tomb &

by the inscription
Admiral father
Loved you



tentative 8.12.17.

Kouros 4


When you ran w Keats
on Hampstead Heath
they calld you a different name,


as you once wrote— someone
              calld
in a poem or song, I cannot remember.


Now come along, let's run again
thru neon groves or pastures new,
w John & John & John,


one dead young, one blind,
one hurld to Eternity in Minnesota.


For there must always be the

invocation, the index finger's curl
                         let us go now,
thru half-deserted streets & alleyways,


on dirty feet
trollfeet, ghostfeet,
country-bumpkin booted 


or walkin on Gucci, wearin' Yves St
Laurent
, find them,
throw them out, cast them like pearls,


let the young ones further on
discover w eyes focusd, navigating
tomorrow's interfaces.


8.12.17 first draft.