The PR

What was it I saw at the top
of the world as I fell
asleep last night?

Cats arguing on the rough roof

The instant those fiery lilies let go
a handful of flame petals dropped
to the kitchen floor         & the men & the women begin

the war of the orchids
The land of politeness inside my head said

you occult deep notion of nothing
you average spiritual manhood you
sachems of molasses, you hidden national will
you fractals, splintering powwows of disorder
you ladder in the meadow
up which I climb in pointed shoes

Listen:

There is a great lake called Pleasure
the color of your eyes and nestled
in the bay--

Out of black rock:
a fresh-water trickle

(from The Monster Lives of Boys and Girls)

There is a great lake called Pleasure

chagrin

we go over a river
riding an Arabian horse
that changes into
a Siamese cat
the day
you write to me
from Tokyo

Can you tell I’ve been reading Allen

Ginsberg?

I’m on “Birdbrain!”

“Birdbrain runs the world…”

And I’m drinking this great Gewurtz

so I should be happy, right?

I wonder if I will really have the balls

to send you these poems.

I have small balls.

I have the smallest balls.

Oh!  A postcard of O’Keeffe.

It says, “Sometimes when you least

expect it someone is thinking of you.

Lovingly.”

don't feel you today
you must be asleep
or out in the country
i would like to
bake us some bread
would like to curl up
inside your right arm
while you read me
to sleep / to sleep
with your voice
such a comfort now
we would grow
calm

*

when fantasizing
you became
a windshield placed
carefully
around a hybrid flower
"my love is building
a building
around you"
my love
is building a new
flower

*

reading you
i feel fresh water
coursing down my throat
i feel unlonesome
awesome

THE JOY TRIUMPHANT

Oh to be alive in the world!
Alive in the world!
In love with the world in the world!
To be drunk in the presence of grace,
and alive in the world,
so very alive in the world!
To be enthralled with it all
with the thrill
of being alive in the world.
Drunk in the presence of grace
and alive in the world!
         One in the world,
         one of the world,
         in love
         in the world,
         so alive
         in the world
         drunk in the presence
         of grace
         and alive in the world!

                       *

NO MONEY IN ART

You can be a dancing brontosaurua
in the Glimmer Twins chorus,
a terrorist, a therapist,
an expert on the clitoris,
go back to barter, protect Jimmy Carter,
write rubber rain checks,
run an obnoxious discotheque,
sell meat thermometers, metric odometers,
snowmobiles to Eskimos,
leave marks that don't show!
You can preach self-reliance,
form an East-West alliance,
force strict compliance,
cure Herpes Simplex,
be a stooge for the complex,
get an MBA and an MFA take some MDA
and be MIA in the USA!
You can be a security advisor,
a market analyzer, a human breathalyzer,
some sweet thang's protector,
a short arms inspector,
a radiation leak detector,
a Soviet defector!
You can forewarn of the apocalypse,
make burgers out of beeflips,
do talk shows, trade quips,
one, two, shape those hips!
Be a military advisor to El Salavador,
believe in a winnable nuclear war,
collect empties in the Cass Corridor!
You can join the CIA, get on MTV,
tells the little Gs & Bs how it's got to be.
Get rich in the struggle,
find something new to smuggle,
be a liar, a conniver,
a Tupelo truckdriver,
get real behind a laser,
locate a real and present danger,
be a major deal arranger,
oh it gets stranger and stranger!
      But I gotta tell you Honey,
      don't let it break your heart,
      but there ain't no money, Honey!
      No Money in Art!

                *

FIRST POEM FOR ST. NED

Like the difference between
driving back the edge with art that cares
and driving onward foggedly through
delivering a sopping maniac to his mama.
The vehicle of discovery needs a valve job.
The motive of the day is pure annihilation.
The song goes something like
"You don't have to live like a refugee."
Watching out for the mind police.
Worrying about The Beaver.
Aware of unseen forces.
No lights on the instrument panel
but we have the stars and the moon
and the glow of the brainheat
to show us one version of The Way.
Let's drive everyone crazy with art that cares.
Drive them out of their homes,
away from their comforts,
into the terrible flow of hyper-over-extended
oblivion bound inner upper jetstream.
Take the third right past the golf course
and look for unmarked sedans.
Sniff the October breeze for sniper scent.
Kiss, kiss, and run for cover.
Run, run, and kiss your mother.

Aquarelles

Uploaded on January 24, 2009
by Aquarelas

Cummings

"next to of course god america i
love you land of the pilgrims' and so forth oh
say can you see by the dawn's early my
country tis of centuries come and go
and are no more what of it we should worry
in every language even deafanddumb
thy sons acclaim your glorious name by gorry
by jingo by gee by gosh by gum
why talk of beauty what could be more beaut-
iful than these heroic happy dead
who rushed like lions to the roaring slaughter
they did not stop to think they died instead
then shall the voice of liberty be mute?''

He spoke. And drank rapidly a glass of water

~E.E. Cummings