Amando Tu Aparición

para la mujer que mora en su propia campiña

Amando tu aparición,
Tus manos de sombra,
Tu cuchicheo:
Respiración sin aliento.

Abrazando tu fantasma,
Olor de la tierra en su cabello,
Vórtice de su pupila…
Donde está el amor y donde está la muerte?

I, Too, Am A Fly, Chanting Recollections, Waiting To Be Shocked Into The Next World By The Strong Blue Light Above

So how can I get close to that rebellious creation force? If there be madness, may it go unswatted. Container of spoiled cottage cheese green and tough at the edges and I have my ambrosia. Riveting. Waste smell: a desperate inspiration. Cherish these pearlish wings, they bring travel freedom for mites and viral fevers. Artists move from illness to gloried striving: rare to find much food in their bins. They have no voice, but I thank myself for them. Racing over can continents and steaming dung islands, I lay eggs in everything, my posterior insuring I have left something to posterity.

Notebook

by Patti Smith

I keep trying to figure out what it means
to be american. When I look in myself
I see arabia, venus, nineteenth-century
french but I can't recognize what
makes me american. I think about
Robert Frank's photographs -- broke down
jukeboxes in gallup, new mexico...
swaying hips and spurs...ponytails and
syphilitic cowpokes. I think about a
red, white and blue rag I wrap around
my pillow. Maybe it's nothing material
maybe it's just being free.

Freedom is a waterfall, is pacing
linoleum till dawn, is the right to
write the wrong words, and I done
plenty of that...

april 1971

The Hungriest Day Is Devoured

I start myself with a question: Simplicity in me? Whoa, I don’t know. Bouncing bell horses smuggle what’s blue, playing like a room. Shh, I told myself, myths abound in forests, waiting to be counted, counting on weight, rolling under steam.

Only change can come from the gong, open the way all sound opens, ritmo under span of buses, bridges, tunnels and plains. Notions glimmer a moment, even some of all of them. Not afraid to be completely skull, skeleton and other masses rippling. In rubbings, ministers show winning numbers, a marina for twisted ships, tumbling in the grip of flanged abandon.

We hunker out in corpse of ocean and waist deep in my marrow find a meadow of cool place. There is swerving silence; bonjour swerving silence, brushing worthy building-tops, from whence have you come? Coarse walkers crash the planet, scene in time. Jellolujah, sing the kids, up-ended in angles of light.

Here is we, filling dense mystery with fuel from swollen mornings, faces cleansed by total eclipse. Haul down the skipper picture, our new captain ate the sea.

Anecdote Of The Bear

Breaking bread with a grizzly, a chronic allergy sufferer sneezed mucus onto the bear’s shoulder. The grizzly pulled off the fellow’s hands and wore them for a whole winter, keeping them on as he slept through the cold and snow. He kept the dismembered allergy sufferer in an insulated barrel at the back of his cave. In the spring, still wearing the hands, the bear went out and used them to pick berries and scoop honey into his mouth. He found them much more useful than his own awkward paws. Nevertheless, the compassionate bear hauled the emaciated allergy sufferer out of the barrel, reattached the hands, and taught him to forage for his meals. When he was plump and healthy again, the thankful fellow embraced the huge grizzly, shook his paw, and went on his way in the world, never to sneeze again. Lonely once more, and unable to keep a diary without opposable thumbs, the bear returned to the city of his birth. Eventually, he married a beautiful Spanish hedge fund manager. In the small but wealthy circles of society he and his wife frequented, he became rather well known for his soft fur, kind strength, and wise investment strategies.

All One And Alone

stunned
my voiceworld
will be my helmet
my protection
in sullen places
a dog makes his way
simply dissolves
a lonely pony
like a leader of granite men
I wantonly scramble
through infusions of tea
bearing ritual objects
through fire
down chameleon-eyed walls
with weird friends
I get out of the shower
with weird friends
down chameleon-eyed walls
through fire
bearing ritual objects
through infusions of tea
I wantonly scramble
like a leader of granite men
a lonely pony
simply dissolves
a dog makes his way
in sullen places
my protection
will be my helmet
my voiceworld
stunned

Exploding Heads

Men used to be able to make their heads explode. Some could do it by staring at the sun for a long time. Some could do it by snorting a few grains of rice up into one of their nostrils. Still others could do it just by watching another man’s head explode. Most of the men who used to be able to do it aren’t around anymore to teach the upcoming generations. If they were here, would they share their art with others, or would keeping it a secret be a matter of pride?

In a room, an oiled and shiny head spins on the end of a stick. Swiftly back and forth, the eyes maintain a crucial rhythm. Sounds are shut out, the mouth is opened wide but remains silent. Eager young men file into the room, laying their cash on the floor and trying to catch diamond engagement rings that fly from the spinning head’s ears, one to a customer. As each man exits the room, his head explodes.

Three skilled pilots flying three separate airplanes crash-land in the same mountain range. After wandering for a while, they happen upon each other. One has water, one has food, one has matches. They build a rainproof hut out of leafy green branches and diligently tend to a large signal fire. One day they see a plane flying overhead. They shout wildly and wave their arms at it. They watch it crash into a nearby mountain. Before the plane explodes, their heads explode.