The Nature Poem*
The moon is Hamlet on a motorcycle coming down a dark road. He is wearing a black leather jacket and boots. I have nowhere to go. I will ride all night.
4 miesiące temu
Surprise*
I lift the toilet seat as if it were the nest of a bird and I see cat tracks all around the edge of the bowl.
4 miesiące temu
The Postman*
The smell of vegetables on a cold day performs faithfully an act of reality like a knight in search of the holy grail or a postman on a rural route looking for a farm that isn't there. Carrots, peppers and berries.…
4 miesiące temu
The Old Folk's Home
The only thing that you can do to gain back some human dignity after you crap in bed like a baby, is to pretend that you are Hannibal crossing the Alps.
4 miesiące temu
Horse Race*
July 19, a dog has been run over by an airplane, an act that brings into this world the energy that transforms vultures into beautiful black race horses.…
4 miesiące temu
Mike
We walked along the pier that curved like Einstein's breakfast out into eternity, and there were people fishing off the pier, mostly Chinese. Mike ran up to an old woman and asked her if she liked to kill fish, to murder living things, and she smiled at him,…
4 miesiące temu
The Winos on Potrero Hill*
Alas, they get their bottles from a small neighborhood store. The old Russian sells them port and passes no moral judgement. They go and sit under the green bushes that grow along the wooden stairs. They could almost be exotic flowers, they drink so quietly.
4 miesiące temu
The Fever Monument*
I walked across the park to the fever monument. It was in the center of a glass square surrounded by red flowers and fountains. The monument was in the shape of a sea horse and the plaque read We got hot and died.
4 miesiące temu
The Potato House of Julius Caesar
O Potatoes! The Roman Empire of Potatoes! All peelings lead to Rome and Julius Caesar eats French fries while the ides of March have potato eyes . . . (Then Brutus to the Idaho of Death Then Marc Antony to Idaho.)
4 miesiące temu
The Octopus Frontier
1 A pleasure palace on the octopus frontier. Perhaps that's the answer. An eight-armed whore in the cabin of a sunken ship, the walls covered with obscene octopus pictures. She beckons to me. Passion and gin. Why not?…
4 miesiące temu
The Last Music Is Not Heard
It was a river in the mountains, I guess there are many rivers in the mountains, flowing through our dreams into death and deep pools. The water was so clear that I could see the expressions on their faces as they looked up at me…
4 miesiące temu
The Rape of Ophelia*
Her clothes spread wide and mermaid-like awhile they bore her up: which time she chanted snatches of old tunes, and sweet Ophelia floated down the river past black stones until she came to an evil fisherman who was dressed in clothes that had no childhood,…
4 miesiące temu
Sit Comma and Creeley Comma*
It's spring and the nun like a black frog builds her tarpaper shack beside the lake. How beautiful she is (and looks) surrounded by her rolls of tarpaper. They know her name and they speak her name.
4 miesiące temu
A Postcard from Chinatown*
The Chinese smoke opium in their bathrooms. They all get in the bathroom and lock the door. The old people sit in the tub and the children sit on the floor.
4 miesiące temu
The Symbol*
When I was hitch-hiking down to Big Sur, Moby Dick stopped and picked me up. He was driving a truckload of sea gulls to San Luis Obispo. "Do you like being a truckdriver better than you do a whale?" I asked. "Yeah," Moby Dick said. "Hoffa is a lot better…
4 miesiące temu
The Quail*
There are three quail in a cage next door, and they are the sweet delight of our mornings, calling to us like small frosted cakes: bobwhitebobwhitebobwhite, but at night they drive our God-damn cat Jake crazy. They run around that cage like pinballs as he stands out there,…
4 miesiące temu
The Sidney Greenstreet Blues*
I think something beautiful and amusing is gained by remembering Sidney Greenstreet, but it is a fragile thing. The hand picks up a glass. The eye looks at the glass and then hand, glass and eye fall away.
4 miesiące temu
The Pumpkin Tide*
I saw thousands of pumpkins last night come floating in on the tide, bumping up against the rocks and rolling up on the beaches; it must be Halloween in the sea.
4 miesiące temu
The Wheel*
The wheel: it's a thing like pears rotting under a tree in August. O golden wilderness! The bees travel in covered wagons and the Indians hide in the heat.
4 miesiące temu
1942*
Piano tree, play in the dark concert halls of my uncle, twenty-six years old, dead and homeward bound on a ship from Sitka, his coffin travels like the fingers of Beethoven over a glass of wine.…
4 miesiące temu