using their own Immemorial
Salvation Mind
SLIPPITY BOP
44th Chorus
Waves of cantos and choruses
And lilypads of anything
Like flying carpets that are
nowhere
And all’s bugged with the scene –
Ah I wish I could fight out
Of this net of mistakes
And anxieties among others
Who wait in my silence
Till I end up my work
Which never began and
Never will end – hah –
Bespeak thyself not, soft spot,
Aurorum’s showed his Mountain
Top
Of Eastern be Western morning
To Indicate by Moon Magic
Constellative Stardom
of
Gazers
in Mock Roman
Arabian Kimonos,
the lay of the pack
in the sky
45th Chorus
Euphonism, a softening of sounds
Euphemism, a softened word –
One is sonic, one is human
Both are imaginary metaphors
Metaphysical Exception taken
by the old euphonious
phoney of Arkansaw
River bridge
Excisor of taxes via tickets
of taxes
With what Euphonic
doesnt-matter
Really pronunciation
price
Dolichocephalic?
Ichthyocephalic,
Encephalotherapy.
Dont point at your head
The Judge says you’re crazy
Breaky cephalic
Ouch
Inch of Grace, sigh.
46th Chorus
I had a dream that Bill
G. here, was lying on his bed
talking to me in a room
in Mexico City on a
horrible afternoon, as
he mumbles information
about the crossroads of the world
I wander like a Giggling Ling
Chinese boy without rice
in a Fog Over Grass
Land vast and like life,
– in my thoughts – but
return to re-listen to what
he was saying, about loaning
money on interest, Christians,
Medicis, Churches, therefores,
Coats of Arms, Balls,
Bridge Post Pots, Guards,
I realize I am dreaming
In beginnings already
And ending’s nowhere
To be seen
Yet forgotten –
Is all
47th Chorus
Where is Italy?
How can I find it in my mind
If my mind is endless.
Skulls on the slavemarket,
blacksmiths, doctors –
I end up bleakly giggling
in gleak romany rooms
Sliced by Sardinian fiends
And shot fulla morphine
By sadistic doctors
That didnt dream of Japan
With me the night I dreamed
Of the Japanese Boy
With black wool cap
Sitting on a wall
On Kamikaze Boulevard
Near the Sea’s Hurricane,
In low gloomy dark
Dusk of War 1943 –
What happened in Italy?
48th Chorus
Marco Polo had canals
and Venetian genitals,
In the war between Genoa
and Venicia,
Marco Polo’s was captured
And then they wrote the book
And that’s all she wrote,
Because after that
the Wandering Jesuit
Italian Monk
made his way to the wall
in the China – far
in the Indes of the
Saints,
far in the cave of reality
down the suicide steps
into underground caves
where worshippers
like Ignatius Loyola
and the Hearer & Answerer
of Prayer, Samantabhadra,
what’s his Indian name,
preside
(like before they were born)
49th Chorus
They got nothing on me
at the university
Them clever poets
of immensity
With charcoal suits
and charcoal hair
And green armpits
and heaven air
And cheques to balance
my account
In Rome benighted
by White Russians
Without care who puke
in windows
Everywhere.
They got nothing on me
‘Cause I’m dead
They cant surpass me
‘Cause I’m dead
And being dead
I hurt my head
And now I wait
Without hate
For my fate
To estate
50th Chorus
Maybe I’m crazy, and my parts
Are scattered still – didnt gather
Em when form was passin out
The window of the giver,
So I’m looking for derangement
To bring me landward back
Through logic’s cold moon air
Where water everywhere
Appears from magic gems
And Asphasiax the Nymph
of India by the Sea
Dances princely mincing
churly jargots
In the oral eloquent air
of tents’
Canopied majesty,
Ten thousand Buddhas
Hiding Everywhere –
How can I be crazy
Even here?
– or wait
Maybe I’m an Agloon
doomed to be spitted
on the igloo stone
of Some North mad
51st Chorus
America is a permissible dream,
Providing you remember ants
Have Americas and Russians
Like the Possessed have Americas
And little Americas are had
By baby mules in misty fields
And it is named after Americus
Vespucci of Sunny Italy,
And nobody cares how you hang
Your spaghetti wash
On the Pasta Rooftops
Of Oh Yawn Opium
Fellaheen Espagna
Olvierto Milano
Afternoon, when men
gamble & ramble & fuck
and women watch the wash
with one eye on the grocer boy
and one eye on the loon
and one eye
in the universe
is Tathagata’s
Transcendental
orb of balloon
52nd Chorus
I’m crazy everywhere
Like the guy sailed on that ferry
for 3 years
Between Hong Kong & China –
The British shoulda given him
temporary residence in Hong Kong;
but they didnt want any part
of him first place he didnt
have any money
Citizen somehow
of a country behind the Iron Curtain
Ex-Spy from Skid Row
I’m crazy everywhere
like Charlie Chaplin
dancing in moral turpitude
playing Bluebeard killer
on satin asskiss couches
with itchy mustache
so well known to dreamers
of Choice’s Century
Every one of us Roman Circus
sacrifices, every one,
&nb
sp; Returned for payment
In America Madhouse
53rd Chorus
Merrily we roll along
Dee de lee dee doo doo doo
Merrily merrily all the day
Roll along, roll along,
O’er the deep blue sea
“Yes, life woulda been
a mistake without music”
Most primitive thing we know
About man is music, drums –
first thing we hear – drums,
fifes, reed instruments –
naturals – catgut violins
and heavenly lyres
and along that line
what the hell’s the name
of that instrument
the Aeolian Lyre
by the Sea
The Organ they made too –
Demosthenes listened by the sea
with a rock in his teeth
And complained when he spent
more on bread than wine –
S h h h says the Holy Sea
54th Chorus
One night in 1941 I was a kid
And ran away from college
And took a bus to the South
Where bedbugs got in my hair
In the Heatwave Night
And all I saw on the long
Avenue were Negroes
Once I went to a movie
At midnight, 1940, Mice
And Men, the name of it,
The Red Block Boxcars
Rolling by (on the Screen)
Yessir
life
finally
gets
tired
of
living –
On both occasions I had wild
Face looking into lights
Of Streets where phantoms
Hastened out of sight
Into Memorial Cello Time
55th Chorus
When I was in the hospital
I had a big fat nurse
Who kept looking over my shoulder
At the book I was reading,
‘The Brothers Karamazov,’
By Gambling Man Fyodor
Dostoevsky
Of Czarist Russia, a Saint,
And in the chapters
called Pro and Con
She kept giggling & insisting
That Pro meant Prophylactic
and Con Contraceptive
In all her laughs & gestures.
Of this Holy Nurse
I learned bed wet
comforts of hot water
and senile satisfaction
‘I’ll Take You Home Again Kathleen’
Sang the old white Cancer man
in the corner
when the children guitared
at my footbed,
Kolya Krosotkins
of my railroad
56th Chorus
At another hospital
I almost died
With ecstasy
Glancing at the Babylonian
Rooftops of the Bronx,
And at my fellow
Kaiser was dying of Leukemia,
Not enough thick blood,
I had too much.
I was dying of die-sadness,
Others had diabetes
like my Uncle John;
Others had sores in the stomach,
ulcers, worriers? –
Sexfiends I’d say.
Old Italian Fruiterer
Had Banti’s Awful Disease,
the bloating of the belly
by undigested water
come from food,
everything he ate
turned to water.
57th Chorus
Green goofballs,
Blue Heavens,
Sodium amythol,
Sleeping compound.
Thirty of em
To commit suicide –
Lethal dose is 30 to 50
Times the therapeutic dose,
The therapeutic dose is une –
Take thirty to be safe –
Or else praps forty be better –
If you take too many
You throw em up –
You gotta let alone
Your stomach, if you
threw it right down
you would throw it up
then, in lethal powder
form
Better to eat the capsules
Swallow about six at a time,
Take em with cold water,
Till you get about 35 in ya
And then lay down on your back
58th Chorus
All about goofballs,
all about morphine,
so I read all about it,
that’s what it said,
‘Lethal dose is 30 times
the Therapeutic dose’
Very painful death, morphine
or heroin; never
Try to kill yourself with
heroin or morphine;
It’s a very painful death.
Doctor gave me a mainline shot
Of H grain – Jesus I
thought the whole building
was falling on me –
went on my knees, awake,
lines come under my eye
I looked like a madman
In 15 minutes I begin
to straighten up a little bit
Says “Jesus Bill I thought
you was dead
A goner, the way you
looked
When you’re standin there”
59th Chorus
Then I always manage to get
my weekly check on Monday,
Pay my rent, get my laundry
out, always have enough
Junk to last a coupla days
Have to buy a couple needles
tomorrow, feels like
Shovin a nail in me
Just like shovin a nail in me
Goddamn – (Cough) –
For the first time in my life
I pinched the skin
And pushed the needle in
And the skin pinched together
And the needle stuck right out
And I shot in and out,
Goofed half my whole shot
On the floor –
Took another one –
Nothin a junkey likes better
Than sittin quietly with a new shot
And knows tomorrow’s plenty more
60th Chorus
Cil
Rubberbands Seventyfivedollars
I came out of the dream
That time with mind made
Of misery and tried to remember
the member
of the ball
who it did seem to me
was the most proficient
at devaluating the advance
of my profit & loss
company, Holmes –
Whatever that means
It means that I have been asked
To receive a brother
Who sinned against me
And I knew all the time
The Saints were for me.
The Saints are still for me,
are Still,
Chico,
small angels,
I am still for them
I got eyes of Avalokitesvara
61st Chorus
And all my own sins
Have been forgiven somewhere –
I dont even remember them,
I remember the sins of others.
Let me meditate on my sins.
(Judgment Gate, somebody
stuck a spear
through the heart
of the Judgment Gate)
(with her surl of leer)
and that’s how we got in
Powerful Tea you gotta smoke
to believe that
About the actual honey
of women’s limbs
Archangels have true eyes ?
??
They look sideways at you
And make you excise
The end from the tax bit
of your doubts –
’S all about angels’ sins
62nd Chorus
A warrant for arrest
Is a mandate,
An order from the Court
Or from the Roayal Coart
Or from the Royal King
Or from
the Royal Coast,
or Coat of Arms,
or Charms,
Boudoirs,
Histories by Voltaire,
Arrested disorderly
Louis Ferdinand Celine’s
of South Africa
murderous intelligent
If you got a lot a money
You’re a felon
If you got not but little money
Misdemeanor
Mal-Hishaps-Deameaning
Lost Ass-Kicked Out
or go to jail
Keep the door locked
63rd Chorus
Rather gemmy,
Said the King of Literature
Sitting on a davenport
at afternoon butler’s tea.
Rather gemmy, hm,
Always thought these sonnets
Of mine, were rather gemmy,
As you say,
pureperfect gems
of lucid poetry
Poetry being what it is today
Rather gemmy, I concluded,
thinking you were right –
It isnt my fault that Buddha
gave me helmet
Of Right Thought, and indices
of long Saints
To Cope my Lope along
with,
Seeing I never had harm
from anything
But a Heavenly Farm.
64th Chorus
I’d rather die than be famous,
I want to go live in the desert
With long wild hair, eating
At my campfire, full of sand,
Hard as a donut
Cooked by Sand
The Pure Land
Moo Land
Heavenland Righteous
sping
the thing
I’d rather be in the desert sand,
Sitting legs crossed, at lizard
High noon, under a wood
Board shelter, in the Dee Go
Desert, just west a L A,
Or even in Chihucha, dry
Zackatakies, High Guadalajara,
– absence of phantoms
make me no king –
rather go in the high lone land
of plateau where you can hear
at night the zing of silence
from the halls of Assembled
65th Chorus
To understand what I’m say in