Lib Проза Переводы Поэзия Фантастика Детективы История И ДР.>>>
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I always wanted,
to the body
where I was born.
Drinking my tea Without sugar-
The sparrow shits
upside down -ah! my brain & eggs
Mayan head in a Pacific driftwood bole -Someday I'll live in N.Y.
Looking over my shoulder my behind was covered with cherry blossoms.
I didn't know the names of the flowers-now my garden is gone.
I slapped the mosquito and missed. What made me do that?
Reading haiku I am unhappy, longing for the Nameless.
A frog floating in the drugstore jar: summer rain on grey pavements.
On the porch in my shorts; auto lights in the rain.
Another year has past-the world is no different.
The first thing I looked for in my old garden was The Cherry Tree.
My old desk: the first thing I looked for in my house.
My early journal: the first thing I found in my old desk.
My mother's ghost: the first thing I found in the living room.
I quit shaving but the eyes that glanced at me remained in the mirror.
The madman emerges from the movies: the street at lunchtime.
Cities of boys are in their graves, and in this town...
Lying on my side in the void: the breath in my nose.
On the fifteenth floor the dog chews a bone- Screech of taxicabs.
A hardon in New York, a boy in San Fransisco.
The moon over the roof, worms in the garden. I rent this house.
Last nite I dreamed of T.S. Eliot welcoming me to the land of dream Sofas
couches fog in England Tea in his digs Chelsea rainbows curtains on his
windows, fog seeping in the chimney but a nice warm house and an incredibly
sweet hooknosed Eliot he loved me, put me up, gave me a couch to sleep on,
conversed kindly, took me serious asked my opinion on Mayakovsky I read him
Corso Creeley Kerouac advised Burroughs Olson Huncke the bearded lady in the
Zoo, the intelligent puma in Mexico City 6 chorus boys from Zanzibar who
chanted in wornout polygot Swahili, and the rippling rhythms of Ma Rainey
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