Bless the dead last Philosophers, thought of the thought of Philosophers
Perfected Wisdom’s teachers escaped from Blessing and the Bliss of grasping prayer
’scaped from the curse of meditation on a cushion on yr ass
Dead that’ve left breath, renounced sex body, suffered stroke & begone
alone, the drinker, thinker, divorcé, grandfather weary wise
dying in bed night’s stillness silent and wake.
November 17, 1973
Teton Village
Snow mountain fields
seen thru transparent wings
of a fly on the windowpane
November 29, 1973
Sweet Boy, Gimme Yr Ass
lemme kiss your face, lick your neck
touch your lips, tongue tickle tongue end
nose to nose, quiet questions
ever slept with a man before?
hand stroking your back slowly down to the cheeks’ moist hair soft asshole
eyes to eyes blur, a tear strained from seeing—
Come on boy, fingers thru my hair
Pull my beard, kiss my eyelids, tongue my ear, lips light on my forehead
—met you in the street you carried my package—
Put your hand down to my legs,
touch if it’s there, the prick shaft delicate
hot in your rounded palm, soft thumb on cockhead—
Come on come on kiss me full lipped, wet tongue, eyes open—
animal in the zoo looking out of skull cage—you
smile, I’m here so are you, hand tracing your abdomen
from nipple down rib cage smooth skinn’d past belly veins, along muscle to your silk-shiny groin
across the long prick down your right thigh
up the smooth road muscle wall to titty again—
Come on go down on me your throat
swallowing my shaft to the base tongue
cock solid suck—
I’ll do the same your stiff prick’s soft skin, lick your ass—
Come on Come on, open up, legs apart here this pillow
under your buttock
Come on take it here’s vaseline the hard on here’s
your old ass lying easy up in the air—here’s
a hot prick at yr soft mouthed asshole—just relax and let it in—
Yeah just relax hey Carlos lemme in, I love you, yeah how come
you came here anyway except this kiss arms round my neck mouth open your
two eyes looking up, this hard slow thrust this
softness this relaxed sweet sigh.
New York, January 3, 1974
Jaweh and Allah Battle
Jaweh with Atom Bomb
Allah cuts throat of Infidels
Jaweh’s armies beat down neighboring tribes
Will Red Sea waters close & drown th’armies of Allah?
Israel’s tribes worshipping the Golden Calf
Moses broke the Tablets of Law.
Zalmon Schacter Lubovitcher Rebbe what you say
Stone Commandments broken on the ground
Sufi Sam whaddya say
Shall Prophet’s companions dance circled
round Synagogue while Jews doven bearded electric?
Both Gods Terrible! Awful Jaweh Allah!
Both hook-nosed gods, circumcised.
Jaweh Allah which unreal?
Which stronger Illusion?
Which stronger Army?
Which gives most frightening command?
What God maintain egohood in Eden? Which be Nameless?
Which enter Abyss of Light?
Worlds of Gods, jealous Warriors, Humans, Animals & Flowers,
Hungry Ghosts, even Hell Beings all die,
Snake cock and pig eat each other’s tails & perish
All Jews all Moslems’ll die All Israelis all Arabs
Cairo’s angry millions Jerusalem’s multitudes
suffer Death’s dream Armies in battle!
Yea let Tribes wander to tin camps at cold Europe’s walls?
Yea let the Million sit in desert shantytowns with tin cups?
I’m a Jew cries Allah! Buddha circumcised!
Snake sneaking an apple to Eden—
Alien, Wanderer, Caller of the Great Call!
What Prophet born on this ground
bound me Eternal to Palestine
circled by Armies tanks, droning bomber motors,
radar electric computers?
What Mind directed Stern Gang Irgun Al Fatah
Black September?
Meyer Lansky? Nixon Shah? Gangster? Premier? King?
one-eyed General Dayan?
Golda Meir & Kissinger bound me with Arms?
HITLER AND STALIN SENT ME HERE!
WEIZMANN & BEN-GURION SENT ME HERE!
NASSER AND SADAT SENT ME HERE!
ARAFAT SENT ME HERE! MESSIAH SENT ME HERE!
GOD SENT ME HERE!
Buchenwald sent me here! Vietnam sent me here!
Mylai sent me here!
Lidice sent me here!
My mother sent me here!
I WAS BORN HERE IN ISRAEL, Arab
circumcised, my father had a coffee shop in Jerusalem
One day the Soldiers came & told me to walk down road my hands up
walk away leave my house business forever!
The Israelis sent me here!
Solomon’s Temple the Pyramids & Sphinx sent me here!
JAWEH AND ALLAH SENT ME HERE!
Abraham will take me to his bosom!
Mohammed will guide me to Paradise!
Christ sent me here to be crucified!
Buddha will wipe us out and destroy the world.
The New York Times and Cairo Editorialist Heykal sent me here!
Commentary and Palestine Review sent me here!
The International Zionist Conspiracy sent me here!
Syrian Politicians sent me here! Heroic Pan-Arab
Nationalists sent me here!
They’re sending Armies to my side—
The Americans & Russians are sending bombing planes tanks
Chinese Egyptians Syrians help me battle for my righteous
house my Soul’s dirt Spirit’s Nation body’s
boundaries & Self’s territory my
Zionist homeland my Palestine inheritance
The Capitalist Communist & Third World Peoples’
Republics Dictatorships Police States Socialisms & Democracies
are all sending Deadly Weapons to our aid!
We shall triumph over the Enemy!
Maintain our Separate Identity! Proud
History evermore!
Defend our own bodies here this Holy Land! This hill
Golgotha never forget, never relinquish
inhabit thru Eternity
under Allah Christ Yaweh forever one God
Shema Yisroel Adonoi Eluhenu Adonoi Echad!
La ilah illa’ Allah hu!
OY! AH! HU! OY! AH! HU!
SHALOM! SHANTIH! SALAAM!
New York, January 13, 1974
Manifesto
Let me say beginning I don’t believe in Soul
The heart, famous heart’s a bag of shit I wrote 25 years ago
O my immortal soul! youthful poet Shelley cried
O my immortal Ego—little knowing
he didn’t believe in God. Neither do I.
Nor all science reason reality and good moral Will—
collections of empty atoms as Kerouac Buddha scribed.
Neither does great love immortal defy pain nightmare Death Torture Saigon Police Underground Press Pravda Bill of Rights—
And while we’re at it, let’s denounce Democracy, Fascism, Communism and heroes.
Art’s not empty if it shows its own emptiness
Poetry useful leaves its own skeleton hanging in air
like Buddha, Shakespeare & Rimbaud.
Serious, dispense with law except Cause & Eff
ect, even the latter has exceptions
No cause & effect is not foolproof.
There is Awareness—which confounds the Soul, Heart, God, Science Love Governments and Cause & Effects’ Nightmare.
New York, January 28, 1974, 1 A.M.
Sad Dust Glories
To the Dead
You were here on earth, in cities—
where now?
Bones in the ground,
thoughts in my mind.
*
Teacher
bring me to heaven
or leave me alone.
Why make me work so hard
when everything’s spread around
open, like forest’s poison oak turned red
empty sleepingbags hanging from
a dead branch.
*
When I sit
I see dust motes in my eye
Ponderosa needles trembling
shine green
in blue sky.
Wind sound passes thru
pine tops, distant
windy waves flutter black
oak leaves
and leave them still
like my mind
which forgets
why the bluejay across the woods’
clearing
squawks, mid afternoon.
*
The mood
is sadness, dead friends,
or the boy I slept with last night
came twice silently
and I still lie in the colored
hammock, half naked
reading poetry
Sunday
in bright sun pine shade.
*
KENJI MYAZAWA
“All is Buddhahood
to who has cried even once
Glory be?”
So I said glory be
looking down at a pine
feather
risen beside a dead leaf
on brown duff
where a fly wavers an inch
above ground
midsummer.
*
Could you be here?
Really be here
and forget the void?
I am, it’s peaceful, empty,
filled with green Ponderosa
swaying parallel crests
fan-like needle circles
glittering haloed
in sun that moves slowly
lights up my hammock
heats my face skin
and knees.
*
Wind makes sound
in tree tops
like express trains like city
machinery
Slow dances high up, huge
branches wave back & forth sensitive
needlehairs bob their heads
—it’s too human, it’s not human
It’s treetops, whatever they think,
It’s me, whatever I think,
It’s the wind talking.
* *
The moon followed by Jupiter thru pinetrees,
A mosquito comes round your head buzzing
you know he’s going to bite you if he can—
First you look at your thoughts
then you look at the moon
then look at the reflection of the moon in your eyeball
splatter of light on surface retina
opening and closing the blotched circle
and the mosquito buzzes, disturbing your senses
and you remember your itching thumb as mind
wanders again.
*
Shobo-an
The Acorn people
read newspapers
by kerosene light.
*
By Kitkitdizze Pond in June with Gary Snyder
Bookkeeping in the moonlight
—“frogs count
my checks.”
*
Driving Volkswagen
with tired feet
returned from camping
in Black Buttes
thru sad dust glories
turning off Malakoff
Diggings road
Blinded by sunlight
squirrel in
windshield.
September 1974
Ego Confessions
(1974–1977)
Ego Confession
I want to be known as the most brilliant man in America
Introduced to Gyalwa Karmapa heir of the Whispered Transmission Crazy Wisdom Practice Lineage
as the secret young wise man who visited him and winked anonymously decade ago in Gangtok
Prepared the way for Dharma in America without mentioning Dharma—scribbled laughter
Who saw Blake and abandoned God
To whom the Messianic Fink sent messages darkest hour sleeping on steel sheets “somewhere in the Federal Prison system” Weathermen got no Moscow Gold
who went backstage to Cecil Taylor serious chat chord structure & Time in a nightclub
who fucked a rose-lipped rock star in a tiny bedroom slum watched by a statue of Vajrasattva—
and overthrew the CIA with a silent thought—
Old Bohemians many years hence in Viennese beergardens’ll recall
his many young lovers with astonishing faces and iron breasts
gnostic apparatus and magical observation of rainbow-lit spiderwebs
extraordinary cooking, lung stew & Spaghetti a la Vongole and recipe for salad dressing 3 parts oil one part vinegar much garlic and honey a spoonful
his extraordinary ego, at service of Dharma and completely empty
unafraid of its own self’s spectre
parroting gossip of gurus and geniuses famous for their reticence—
Who sang a blues made rock stars weep and moved an old black guitarist to laughter in Memphis—
I want to be the spectacle of Poesy triumphant over trickery of the world
Omniscient breathing its own breath thru War tear gas spy hallucination
whose common sense astonished gaga Gurus and rich Artistes—
who called the Justice department & threaten’d to Blow the Whistle
Stopt Wars, turned back petrochemical Industries’ Captains to grieve & groan in bed
Chopped wood, built forest houses & established farms
distributed monies to poor poets & nourished imaginative genius of the land
Sat silent in jazz roar writing poetry with an ink pen—
wasn’t afraid of God or Death after his 48th year—
let his brains turn to water under Laughing Gas his gold molar pulled by futuristic dentists
Seaman knew ocean’s surface a year
carpenter late learned bevel and mattock
son, conversed with elder Pound & treated his father gently
—All empty all for show, all for the sake of Poesy
to set surpassing example of sanity as measure for late generations
Exemplify Muse Power to the young avert future suicide
accepting his own lie & the gaps between lies with equal good humor
Solitary in worlds full of insects & singing birds all solitary
—who had no subject but himself in many disguises
some outside his own body including empty air-filled space forests & cities—
Even climbed mountains to create his mountain, with ice ax & crampons & ropes, over Glaciers—
San Francisco, October 1974
Mugging
I
Tonite I walked out of my red apartment door on East tenth street’s dusk—
Walked out of my home ten years, walked out in my honking neighborhood
Tonite at seven walked out past garbage cans chained to concrete anchors
Walked under black painted fire escapes, giant castiron plate covering a hole in ground
—Crossed the street, traffic lite red, thirteen bus roaring by liquor store,
past corner pharmacy iron grated, past Coca Cola & Mylai post
ers fading scraped on brick
Past Chinese Laundry wood door’d, & broken cement stoop steps For Rent hall painted green & purple Puerto Rican style
Along E. 10th’s glass splattered pavement, kid blacks & Spanish oiled hair adolescents’ crowded house fronts—
Ah, tonite I walked out on my block NY City under humid summer sky Halloween,
thinking what happened Timothy Leary joining brain police for a season?
thinking what’s all this Weathermen, secrecy & selfrighteousness beyond reason—F.B.I. plots?
Walked past a taxicab controlling the bottle strewn curb—
past young fellows with their umbrella handles & canes leaning against a ravaged Buick
—and as I looked at the crowd of kids on the stoop—a boy stepped up, put his arm around my neck
tenderly I thought for a moment, squeezed harder, his umbrella handle against my skull,
and his friends took my arm, a young brown companion tripped his foot ’gainst my ankle—
as I went down shouting Om Ah Hu? to gangs of lovers on the stoop watching
slowly appreciating, why this is a raid, these strangers mean strange business
with what—my pockets, bald head, broken-healed-bone leg, my softshoes, my heart—
Have they knives? Om Ah Hu?—Have they sharp metal wood to shove in eye ear ass? Om Ah Hu?
& slowly reclined on the pavement, struggling to keep my woolen bag of poetry address calendar & Leary-lawyer notes hung from my shoulder
dragged in my neat orlon shirt over the crossbar of a broken metal door
dragged slowly onto the fire-soiled floor an abandoned store, laundry candy counter 1929—
now a mess of papers & pillows & plastic car seat covers cracked cockroachcorpsed ground—
my wallet back pocket passed over the iron foot step guard
and fell out, stole by God Muggers’ lost fingers, Strange—
Couldn’t tell—snakeskin wallet actually plastic, 70 dollars my bank money for a week,
old broken wallet—and dreary plastic contents—Amex card & Manf. Hanover Trust Credit too—business card from Mr. Spears British Home Minister Drug Squad—my draft card—membership ACLU & Naropa Institute Instructor’s identification
Om Ah Hu? I continued chanting Om Ah Hu?
Putting my palm on the neck of an 18 year old boy fingering my back pocket crying “Where’s the money”
“Om Ah Hu? there isn’t any”
My card Chief Boo-Hoo Neo American Chruch New Jersey & Lower East Side
Om Ah Hu?—what not forgotten crowded wallet—Mobil Credit, Shell? old lovers addresses on cardboard pieces, booksellers calling cards—
Collected Poems 1947-1997 Page 49
