Where Appear Red Clouds
(a poem for: Burroughs and Ginsberg)
Because of Him, O Phantom, because of him, we shake in the flesh,
bow, yet see with the fleeting eye, listen for the inseparable Master
the unspeakable King of the air, for we are plainly the unintelligible,
from the cradle, to the grave, from sunset to the dawn, an insect,
compared to the Giver, God! But the Adversary, whose blood burns, and
whom yearns, like a thousand animals, for revenge, laughs with no
mouth, is a worm of pure corruption, with no nostrils, infinite...
Thy tongue, is like an eyeless squid, it moves in many directions, to
seek endlessly the fault of man, he puts death and desire and orgasms
into their minds, infiltrated, like William Burroughs, and Allen
Ginsberg, their his kind, who speak of mankind as if they were toys;
we travel to hell but once, when there appears the Red Clouds, a
limb of death. God will disgrace thy in the eyes of the earth, for
you both have lived in constant disintegration, the devils work;
attack your hairy tongue, God will not have to deal with you a
second more, the insane in hell will devour your brain. Mock God
you have, but now it rains, volcanic flesh. Thus, you saw the red clouds
appear, and did not see the jeweled terraces, fade, rather, you saw
Satan's best, dragging you by the limbs. Oh, if only I had a moment
of time, to see your nasty new rhymes', now you write in hell, I'm sure
they would tell, that you are daily slain, straight through your own, mind;
that, you now vomit from breathing the air, croak daily from your
skeleton, that has no beard or jaw, or flesh. No stomach, just a vine, for
a soul, and in time, that also will fade and go, unknowable! Yes
indeed, Satan has done his homework on thee, now pulled into the
darkness, poor pitiable child, afraid of the dark, seeing for the cross,
only to die over, and over and over, among the many strangers in despair.
I hope it was all worth it, it's now to late to protest...!
#2281 2-22-2008
Midwinter Winds
(A Midwinter Poem for Minnesota, 2008)
Midwinter winds over the gray,
now heavily displaying in the Midwest,
go forth to secure the day,
for here the magic has come, with dreams.
O, happy winds play within my warm hands,
Ah! Let me play and rest...!
and breath in the yearning, to see,
so much midwinter gray, and snow to be!
#2280 (2-22-2008)
