snow
Gerard, Pa, lamb,
Sax,
Heaven, you, me.
188th Chorus
And tonight I’ll pray
And O I’ll call Fugen
and Kwannon to my aid
and ask them to let me
hear their transcendental
silence sound,
learning
thereby
Fugen
Avaloki-
tesvara’an
mostafokas
fakirs, makers,
sing sound silence
of my sound
O bless me, make me safe,
say, ‘No-Yo’ but save
‘Me no?’ save
No-me – I beseech
save no-me
189th Chorus
Petronic, Satiricon –
The Black Mass is the Christian
Devil Mass
“A guy in there
gives a supper
and has his funeral oration
spoken, & coffin bared
in which he is to lie,
all dishes are black,
all food black & white
(that which can be)
– they have world-food
at this banquet of death,
the wealthy man celebrant
says he’ll die early
and violently”
and Does he?
Petronius Arbitum –
elegant queer,
my dear
190th Chorus
What I have attained in Buddhism
is nothing.
What I wish to attain,
is nothing.
Let me explain.
In perceiving the Dharma
I achieved nothing –
What worries me is not
nothing
But everything, the trouble is
number,
But since everything is nothing
then I am worried nil.
In seeking to attain the Dharma
I failed, attaining nothing,
And so I succeeded the goal,
Which was, pure happy
nothing.
No matter how you cut it
it’s empty delightful boloney
191st Chorus
My startingplace and my goal
are right here in this simple
space hole
Sings Shinran:–
“All that have obstructions
Are not impeded
By the Clouds of Light.”
It is like the Iddhi Magic
Mentioned in Surangama Sutra,
Where say, The Bhikshu
Who delights in Transcendental
Solitude and Brilliant Silence
And Rhinoceros Sorrow
Shall be saved, & transported
Magically in the air
To his Blessed Pure Land
Diamond Irradiation
From the Crown of Buddha.
Wild – I wait by candlelight
for confirmation
(And I see waving whitenesses)
192nd Chorus
“O thou who holdest the seal
of power, raise thy diamond
hand, bring to naught, destroy,
exterminate.
O thou sustainer, sustain
all who are in extremity.
O thou purifier, purify all
who are in bondage to self.
May the ender of suffering
be victorious. Om!
Om! Oh! Thou perfectly enlightened,
enlighten all sentient beings.
O thou who art perfect in wisdom
and compassion,
Emancipate all beings, & bring
them to Buddhahood. Om!
Adoration to Tathagata (Attainer
to Actual Isness), Sugata
(Attainer to Actual Goodness),
Buddha (Who is Awake), Perfect
in Pity and Intelligence
193rd Chorus
Who has accomplished,
And is accomplishing,
And will accomplish,
All these words
Of mystery,
Svaha,
So be it,
Amen.”
Numberless roses arranged,
The milk of merriment
without the curds,
The Pleased Milk
of Humankindness
The Frowns of worried saints,
The Helpless Hands of Buddha
burning,
The Crown Prince of the Lotus
Blossom Sky,
Lover of all the mental phantoms
in the mind –
Wordmaker, curdmaker
Kingmaker, Ding
Dong, the Buddha’s Gong
194th Chorus
Being in selfless one-ness
With the such-ness
That is Tathagatahood,
So is everybody else
Lost with you
In that bright sea
Of non-personality.
In teaching the Paramitas
Of Virtue and Sweetness,
The Wu-Weis of Love,
The Tehs of Sensibility,
And all the Tibetan Arhat
Secrets of the Buddha Mountain
World up & down of which
We race in celestial racingcars
On imaginary hills seeking
Salvation at the goal,
Flagged by Dominos of Bodhi
And Oil men Ragged Hero
Mechanic Sariputran
Minnesinging Gurus, on we rave.
195th Chorus
The songs that erupt
Are gist of the poesy,
Come by themselves, hark,
Stark as prisoners in a cave
Let out to sunlight, ragged
And beautiful when you look close
And see underneath the beards
the holy blue eyes of humanity
And brown.
The stars on high sing
songs of their own, in motion
that doesnt move, real,
Unreal, singsong, spheres:–
But human poetries
With God as their design
Sing with another law
Of spheres & ensigns
And rip me a blues,
Son, blow me a bop,
Let me hear ’bout heaven
In Brass Fluglemop
196th Chorus
So I write about heaven,
Smoke for the scene,
Wanta bring everyone
Straight to the dream.
If you only could hold
what you know
As you know it forever,
instead-a
Moving from griefy to griefy,
lament to lament,
Groan, and have to come out
and smile once again,
– S teada all that,
A hospital for the sick,
Lying high in crystal,
In heaven of pure
adamantine
Consanguine
Partiality devoid
Of conditions, free –
Here I go rowin
Thru Lake Innifree
Looking for Nirvana
Inside me
197th Chorus
Inside, Inside Me,
I’se free
Free as the bee
Inside he.
Lord have a mercy
on Hallelujah Town
I got to stomp my foot,
And say, whee,
hey dad, now oan,
from now oan,
I dont wanta
cant wanta
wont wanta
hear about it
not in my Oakland
Saloon, not in my bar
Not in my brokenglass
Not in my jar
Blue, black, race, grace,
/> face,
I love ye.
198th Chorus
Nirvana aint inside me
cause there aint no me.
Nirvana’s everywhere
’xceptin’ what’s everywhere
And so all is nowhere.
Swimmin free, in the lake free,
Rowing to the other beachy.
Tall guards you say? tall
saloons? maloons?
Tall goons? Tall tunes?
Tall stately heroes
Tall calm saints
Tall long tendrils
of cloud-air
Tall unobstructed
ghost whitenesses
Imagining on the edge
of the pier –
Just not there.
199th Chorus
Empty balloons of gorgeous?
Wild upskies bedazzling radiant?
Immense arcades of secret joy?
Caves of light, Ya-Vingo,
dream-material palaces
high in the texture
of the high thought?
Nirvana? Heaven?
X? Whatyoucallit?
Swear
Huge milky areas of silence
Permeated by rose petals
crushed in diamond vats –
Great baths of glory? –
Singing quiet humsound?
White light of black eternity?
Golden Secret Figures
Of Unimaginable
Inexpressible Flowers
Blooming in the One Own
Mind
Essence
200th Chorus
White figures throughout
made of light,
Like a truck becomes a square
mass of shining light bars,
Empty Apparitional secret
figure of the mind.
More than that. Face
is mass of swarm-roe
starlight, insanity
itself personified
& taking up space
& penetrable throughout.
Secret parleys with saviour
Angels outside brown rooms
Where phantoms converge
In light, black and white,
Dazzling in the middle
With one Insane Bar Light –
One Shiningness
And you know darkness nullifies
the color
Into Nirvana No
201st Chorus
When the girls start puttin
Nirvana-No on their lips
Nobody’ll see them.
Poor girls, did they always
Want attention? Did they
always disturb
The sitting saint in the woods
and make him feel
Cheap by sayin: “Those
guys think they
can sit down & be God.”
– “They think they dont
have to work
because they are God
and they sit down
and think they are God”
– Those Guys …
Over their heads is the unbelievable
unending
emptiness
the enormous
nothingness
of the skies
And they claim
202nd Chorus
A white poem, a white pure
spotless poem
A bright poem
A nothing poem
A no-poem non poem
nondream clean
silverdawn clear
silent of birds
pool-burble-bark
clear
the lark of trees
the needle pines
the rock the pool
the sandy shore
the cleanness of dogs
the
frogs
the
pure white
spotless
Honen
Honey Land
Blues
203rd Chorus
Heaven’s inside you but there’s no you.
What does that mean?
said the teacher,
The Great Holy the All Holy
Old Teacher:–
All you’ve got to do
Everytime you feel sick
Is stop (this madhouse
shot of yours
is not exactly
the immemorial miel)
stop – and stare
through the things
before your eyes
with eyes unfocused
and as soon as they move
you will have seen
that they move
to illusion.
Seeing that all’s illusion
You lose your mind
In meditation
And heal yourself well
(AND WHAT’S BEEN HEALED?)
204th Chorus
What’s been buried in the grave?
Dust.
Perfect dust?
Perfect dust in time.
Time.
Time is dust.
Time’s not dust
Time’s already happened
immemorially
The pearl of the gods
the agonizer of Wests
The ball in the bubble
void
Time –
Dont worry bout time.
What’s been buried inside me
for sure?
The substance of my own father’s
empty light
Derived from time working
on dirt
And clay bones.
Buddha’s River.
205th Chorus
Enter the Holy Stream.
March with the Saints.
Follow along the emptiness.
Follow bright the ferrymen
And follow the All Star
And sing with the others
In praise of the light
In praise of the emptiness
so bright
In praise of the OO-LA-LA’S
Of Parisian Women.
In praise of the singsong
mingsong
brokesong
lostsong
Ah Time
Ah Perturbable
Me, Sir,
Dis-beturbable Ameget
Me
206th Chorus
Maaaaaah! said the sheep
And opened its foxtail soft
Mouth to say something empty,
To express its reverentation,
And M n a a a came
the bull cry something-cry
Because you cant sing
open yr mouth with poems
without you make sound
and sound is wrong
sound is noise
But only human speech
and also all sentient
communication
pointing to the finger
that points at sound
saying ‘Sound is Noise’ –
Otherwise
sound itself
un-self-enlightenable
would go on blatting
& blaring unrecognized
as emptiness and silence
207th Chorus
Aztec Blues – Imitation of Pound
A God called “Drink the Flood
Water” – HUETEOTL –
Is a very old God.
What older God could you get
GLED-ZAL-WAD-LE,
The Sound of the Feathered Serpent,
cause of the flood.
He came from:
“Destroyed-Over-Flooded-Land-
Exiled-Him-Water-Pour,”
Which means: He is Water.
He is the Flood.
He is the Ocean that Floods
Serpent as the Sign of Flood, Ah
Sax –
Bird-feather is a sign of escape,
flight, exile –
The Feathered Serpent
/>
Snakes that Fly
Nail Eternity
To bye/
TONA TI UH:- “Of the Sunken Your Ear”
208th Chorus
Anciently in cities
men have been sitting
in waiting rooms
in the night bloated
with food and alcohol
waiting waiting waiting
as though the city existed not.
They are so old.
They think all alike.
I’ve seen them die in chairs
Quietly in cities they never planned.
Seen them sing in saloons
For muffled uproars.
Seen men in coffee houses
Shoot the opium cup
With Greeks of Brotherhood.
Aztec Pulque Distributors
Rembrandtian city committees
And unions of Masons –
Shoot the sperm cup to me, Jim,
These partitioned Anglo Spanese
Singing sneerers perturbing
You in the background
Are your father’s kindly
buriers
209th Chorus
Well, that about does me in.
I’ve packed my bags and time
Has come to start to heaven.
Afraid of the trip. Always
Thought it was short & snappy
And I wouldnt worry. Or
Always thought I’d be glad to go.
But who’s glad to go? I want gold.
I want rich safety in my legs
And good bones made of empty milk
Of God-Kindness – I want
I need I cry like baby
I want my Partotooty
Sweety backpie back
And dong strang bang bong
Dont scrounge my yoll-scrolls
And try to fool with me
One more time & I report you
To the pimp, whore God –
I got the woozes
Said the wrong thing
Want gold want gold
Gold of eternity
210th Chorus
Impressionism. The drowned afternoon
along the sunny carnival –
Trees waving over rock walls
of drowned scummers –
Glutted bloatbellies blue as the bay
scummed in tangle raft –
Shit on a leaf, by the pier,
shit used as leaf paper
Piled by flooded Ack Merrimoil
the Plantaneous River
of Fra Devilico Mojostico
the Funny Folly Phoney balloon
of Polateira Mia OOLA
the Crap’ in-ping, Caing,
and mutter of imbecile
boys in jungle beehive fish.
Blop.