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.