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Image for the poem hornworm tobacco mosaic

hornworm tobacco mosaic

       
       
       
When reduced to the rubble of our disenchantment        
the lantern slants weakly upon the fragments,        
conveyer of endless ascensions and redactions.        
here every body shares a vague opinion        
       
against this age of untimely assassins, a pendulum        
scythes the harvest.  scythes the energy        
and the cadence down to sweet nothings        
spilled crimson upon the sidewalk.  O        
       
here we meet at a great loss of sensation.        
royally flushed!  the mind recoils, distorted.          
and i am left to beg: oh take from me, oh ye, all human semblance!        
the thousand thousand details of our species.
       
       
for i shall not remiss the violence,        
nor sustain your dowry of illusion.        
fold us again oh lordly lord,        
with a bang and whimpering hemorrhage .        
       
these walls that were days        
inching inward to the music ,        
O Misty Love, here where the dull gold corrodes        
morn upon morn corrodes        
to find us  awake, astride ourselves,        
       
down these strong bodies of the living        
sown up with organs of the long dead        
whose old-new scars are the penance        
of life itself, awakened too late to the dying.        
       
i recall just now, the lurch of the deck and itching skin.        
i recall her hair was braided rows of molten bronze        
as she traced the poem of her palm        
into the void heart of the machine        
       
dug in the dung, the dirt, & the mud        
where the unrequited splay of the blood is a spectral appearance        
& is consistent with the wounds of the patient.        
       
OH love love love in meek service i search the fever'd mind        
without sight or intent.  i heed the western wastelands and concur,        
         
as the worm turns  with faint praise against the muck ,        
ever prodigious in the pulpit of earth.          
here i inhale the moist cradle of dawn        
and her joints become my own.          
       
verily verily verily the pulp of our sun arches        
against the edgeless universe and smolders        
a pyre of our hours away.        
       
Here we move in straight distortion.        
& Puff in profile.        
to address the wounds of the wound dresser        
we become a fire-fight & such smoke on the wind,        
winding down city streets        
and alleyways beginning to end.        
       
& Here the jazz acids of negro night explode        
all down the shivering Alameda west.        
as we watched the crude heart abscond with itself        
to bend again upon the break of day        
whose gradual thoughtless sufferings display        
       
our dazzling burden of bones,(grimaced in lack or luck)        
and the curious face of God drawn in mahogany lines,        
drawn in daisy chains, and ropes of animal blood        
       
& the thread of one becomes................        
       
       
the punk edge of his drunk lip or hers which brushed mine        
       
black-on-blonde down the booker's waltz        
       
from old A t' iron Main        
we jammed the Stooges brightly        
down faint terrestrial MacArtrrr mazed&dazed        
to eight -eighty -ought        
& thus deposited us thusly        
in the sub-strange-terranean-slush of 16th        
Strt. or near e'nough        
& i watched        
       
bloody old poet men and scabs        
gathered in coffee shops and stray liters of rags        
near bore me back to death i say !        
 (one must be absolutely maudlin, remember)        
     
but i'm just a modern guy! O      
     
........and again the thread of one becomes        
       
those threads of another which become        
those treads of another becoming        
       
yours in turn becomes mine        
       
      
so forward ho!        
!  you know        
the machine wont feed        
itself        
moreover nor absorb        
that warp of manimal tongues        
which seeks to crack the literal mind        
down to dust.        
       
& \the thread of one becomes    
       
threads of another becoming        
those treads of another becoming        
       
yours in turn becomes mine        
       
in turn        
       
 and we talk fair terms        
in a language unspeakable        
       
and we walk brotherly upon        
       
and we walk sisterly upon        
       
the grass and sand of mother earth and        
       
the thread again becomes        
       
immense and harmonious and spins        
       
speechless parallel spirals        
       
speeding thru the patterns and variations thereof        
       
and the lips we kiss blissfully with        
drink the wine we find        
       
within ourselves        
becuz  im just a modern guy!  &of course ive        
       
drowned in her rivers where the whole enormity of eternity reclines,        
       
exploding vividly in ropes magic, iridescent and tragic,        
       
before our eyes intuitive, pragmatic and radiant;        
       
and altogether sparked sun-ward into pendulous paradises        
of kaleidoscopic consternation .        
       
       
       
       
       
       
Written by Caliban_Dregs (Cal)
Published | Edited 30th Jun 2013
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