SMUT

I

I’m aching
Downwind of a wrinkled
Wrist
Though the hand
Still works

And I’m wishing
Another were here
To hear Dvorak’s sweet
American Suite
With me

This music takes
The top
Out of the air
You stretch with it
Reach to find it
As it whirls out

They say the tanagers
Are unmusical
But the scarlet one
Red and black as they are
Shows her music
To the world

Red and Black are
In fact
The Basic Ingredients

Please
Turn off the light.

II

Any artform you make in part or
somewhat completely is in fact
your creative gift to the world
. Perhaps in your eyes sometim
es hidden your gift to your par
ents. Hidden’s because some ha
nded up a fistful of diaper stu
ff with a glad look, as a cat h
as when it drops a mole’s head
at your feet. Child hears horr
or sounds, often, cat’s rebuked
usually. Where is the tail?

   Take the eyes and fix
   On it find her chin w
   Ith a finger see the
   Best of what’s west o
   F the lake sleep on t
   he beach and linger

Rivers have beaches orchards ha
ve peaches. What does it mean
to be entrenched? That word f
lips us out of our beds…out
of our bed. Into the trench.
Take my mom’s plastic cups like
they do, hide them in the oddes
t places. Signal set for the j
abbering man, kiss those angry
faces. I steal her supper, she
talks to her brandy cup, to her
sweet yellow flower. See its b
eauty, she says, see it. See I
T.

III

Sit in a heap

A meditative bag

No symmetry anywhere

Few of them know

None of them know

That his consciousness

Is riding the back of a

Fast horse

Steaming bright as can be

Carrying him knowingly lovingly

Down the road

To the place where she

Waits in the garden of

Deliverance the

Garden lapped with stones

The garden well below

The gate

There she reveals her

Shoulders and a tiny bit

Of the tops of her breasts

This meditation has to

Take me back to the

Edge of the forest

Where I can toy

With a tree and

Not think I need her

Or anything.

Frog dances through the

Salad I see her

Moving in the space

Where I make music

It’s all flesh desired and

I take a hatcheck for the rest

Perhaps it’s a he-check

He for hat who needs one

We shook hands a good

Squeeze glimpse of a

Warm full figure tuning up

Then she’s there a dancer’s

Wrap moving slowly a very patient

Hawk

Now she has her shoes and

A tape of the rhythms we’re

Doing

Perhaps I can walk it off

Or take to a wooing

Horse needs a shoeing

Cat does a mewing

Bring out the presents

Bury the coals.

Can I be redeemed if

I haven’t been deemed

Can my mind see into hers

Trying an idea when our

Shadow’s one

I raise my stick to the

Choices

I want those parents

In the corner I want a

Top hat and a belt of

Flesh I want that hidden

Place on the net

My redeemer wraps me in

A flag he rolls me out

On top of the biscuits

I see his eyes above the pin

I know with love the

Dish I’m in.

VI

They found him with
An apple on his eyelid
Just below
Just below the edge
Of the earth

His heart stolen
An apple on his eyelid
The earth a kiss
Around his sack

There was an empty ruin
A while away
His heart went there
The sun had seen it

Feet in the cup make
Rattling music feet down
Comfort my back

I fathom her tummy she
Fathoms my ship now it’s
Come in where to dip
Where to dip

I ask for an entrance
There’s no answer there
I wonder why I
Wonder.

VII

Now it’s the issue:
Placing the four blue bottles
Blue as the pieces of glass
We found on the shore of
Lake Erie

Four bottles on one sill
Blue blue of the past
Magnesia bottles eyewash
Runaround father in reverse

The House of Blue Light
Blue Skies, Blue Christmas
Where is my mistress what
Distress calls up to us
Where is the empty

Empty magnitude flashing in
The silly sea where to be I
Comfort thee don’t laugh
Nothing’s in that
Flash your bosom sweetly
I fall flat.

Really flat.

VIII

Some lie there or sit wating for
the muse to speak. Maybe the ang
el, possibly the anima. Or a dem
on, or the first incubus. One of
those voices. This One but wi
th many voices. What if they all
speak at once? Probably they’re
polite: certainly they are. Who
would interrupt? The softest vo
ice is the one I’ll tune in to.

   I wouldn’t have fallen if
   It hadn’t been so soft it
   Wasn’t soft enough those
   Years ago when I did that
   Drawing called MEGATOON i
   T hangs on someone else’s
   Wall now softness barely
   A memory now rope’s the t
   Hing Chinese dynasty nast

You want trouble? I’ll open the box.
This is it: the Light-splitting box:
precise compartments containing parti
cles of soul. Those little bits that
make a stew so good. Let’s meet this
afternoon in the meadow with our spoo
ns. We should be able to take it fro
m there. The meadow full of clover.

IX

Who liked mustard
On the end of the
Hotdog
Then on each new end
After every bite

Didn’t like it at all
Along the top or side
Depending on how the
Dog’s being held

A New Religion
A Head of Mustard
Tiny seed that rolls
Down the Alley of Faith

I want her to dance
Her own dance as I
Eat my hotdog
Little attention given
To form or content

I’ll be playing actually
Dog sitting on plate on
Nearby chair

She’ll be in her own
Costume doing her own
Movements as she
Feels them present

Nothing wrong with presenting
Nothing wrong with the present
Nothing wrong with presents

Present arms….

People in the next place attached

to that wall there are doing odd

occasional things in there with s

trange tools. The sounds seem st

range anyway. Karen dances on Tu

esday nights and sometimes always

after midnight someone fists the

wall right there. Like they mean

business. So we stop. But since

their second floor moving makes b

eams creak in my place, I figure

I’ve the right to haunt them shou

ld it come to that. My consciousn

ess moves too rapidly at times: t

here are my eyes right beside a t

oilet I’ve never seen before. Ho

w to get down to the kitchen. My

astral nose can smell the chicken

stew even if my astral hands can’

t touch a thing. Why not windows

in all the separating walls? Why

not acknowledge that there’s only

One Family? Why like to touch th

is one, not even look at that one

? Show me now the one who takes

no part of a caste system. Cast

the shadow: about as far as one c

an go. See shadow of ribcage.

XI

I miss the kiss- moreso: I misses
the kisses. I’ve got my Magic Wa
nd, I plug it in and I can rouse
my demons from level I chakra in
good time. But: no soft mouth bo
unce. No delay, the succulent fr
uit kind. I can kiss parts I can
touch/reach: upper arm, inner thi
gh; mind apart, let’s get high. B
ut there are places I can see and
cannot tongue…touch. Tongue is
a Touch. We have one mostly for
delight. De dark and de light…
I open my arms to her; she needs
to say goodby. So I wait for the
floor to turn to syrup, I grab th
e horse’s flank looking for a sti
rrup. The stirrup cup I miss the
most. Without it how can I possi
bly say goodby. In the space und
er time there can be no goodbys.

XII

Can I say I understand
that I don’t understan
d? No. I really don’
t understand; not even
that. I don’t underst
and anything. Perhaps
I can get away with be
ing aware of not under
standing anything. Th
at’s it! Thank the sp
ace prior to conscious
ness for awareness. L
et me shoot out in it
to the place beyond aw
areness. Or back to t
he one prior to it. T
here we are staring at
a screen. Lots of fla
ttened images of thing
s we think we’d like t
o touch. No flat hand
s. There’s the lack o
f a rub. God, I want
my body in the hands o
f someone who’s freed
their self herself fro
m the tassels of belie
f. Believe in God? U
p yours. Experience G
od? Beyond words. Ya

XIII

Keep making funny movements
Even if you don’t live longer
You’ll fall down into bed or
Coffin with an easy languid
Grace

Dancing is a part of the Funny
Movements: watch kids. They
Brought it with them to here.
Spaz Dancing, make your body
Move against its will well
Sometimes

When my dad finally left his
Profession at 79, I tried to
Get him into moving in other
Ways

He wouldn’t. And he dropped
Frozen into a circuit he wouldn’t
Then couldn’t leave for over a
Decade.

Non-habitual movings and
You better start them going
Before you leave your third
Decade.

Sure I’ll take the Lap of Luxury
All the more so if it’s oiled and
Fuzzy

And you can make a house out of
Bales of hay. I want her body.

XIV

What lovely stones. Five of them.
How much for the five? A thousand
maybe more. Oh, that’s a lot. An
d for one? You can have one for f
ifty bucks. What? I don’t get th
at. Well, five’s a set. A family
. Who wants to break up a family?
So you’ll sell me four for two hun
dred bucks? No, I’ll sell one for
fifty. Then the price goes way up
. I don’t get your logic at all.
No problem: there ain’t any. Logi
c goes straight into the spittoon:
there’s a drunk who keeps threat
ening to drink down the spittoon i
f nobody’ll buy him a drink. Fina
lly the buyers give up. Drink wha
tever you want, they shout. So he
does: kneels down, lifts it to his
lips. The buyers can’t stand it.
Stop. Please Stop! STOP!! But h
e doesn’t/won’t or can’t. Finally
he rises up, clutches the bar. Th
ere are several drinks in front of
him. Why wouldn’t you stop, one o
f the buyers gently asks. Couldn’
t, the drunk stammers. It was all
on one string…

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