Poems from TAPE NOON

We must tie all these
desperate impressions together

MONEY...

Money, the beauty of

      (currency
      pale green
          greesy
        ornate
          soft
        furrowed
          texture)

                    Skin or leather

ENTER THE SLIP

Enter the slip
of the warm womb tide

Wet labyrinth kiss

digging the wells
& riding the lies

all holes & poles

Walk down a street
A drive to the beach
Drowning man's flash
A town in siege

THE DESERT

The Desert
  -- roseate metallic blue
     & insect green

     blank mirrors &
     pools of silver

     a universe in
     one body

BIBULOUS COMPOUND OF

Bibulous compound of
   muck & mulch milk

Tenebrous connections
   in forest & farm

all-swarming disk-like
   elegance

      Say No More

- That sure was a mouthful.
- You said it.

YOU MUST CONFRONT

you must confront
   your life
which is sneaking up
   on you
like a rapt coiled
   serpent

snail-slime

you must confront
           the inevitable
                 eventually
Bloody Bones has got you!

HOPE IS JUST...

hope is just a word
     when you think in
             Table Cloths
Laughter will not end
    her funny feeling
    or assuage our
             strange desire
Children will be born

WELCOME TO THE AMERICAN NIGHT

Welcome to the American Night
where dogs bite
to find the voice
     the face the fate the fame
to be tamed
     by The Night
in a quiet soft luxuriant
                      car
Hitchhikers line the Great Highway

COCK-PIT

Cock-pit
I am real
   Take a snapshot of me
He is real, shot
Reality is what has been
        concealed from us
             for so long
birth  sex  death
we're alive when we laugh
when we can feel the
     rush & spurt of blood
blood is real in its redness
the rainbow is real in
     absence of blood

SUDDEN ATTACK

Sudden attack
Stabbed & hacked but no
pain  no  death

Zone of silence
Sudden powered
    mute strangeness
       & awareness
    most awkward to the mind
       alive w/ love & laughter
    & memory sweet of kinder
       times
    when we spoke & words
       had soft form by
           a fire

THIS IS MY FOREST

This is my forest
    a sea of wires.
This gaggle of vision
    is my flame.
These trees are men,
    the engineers.
And a tribe of farmers
    on their Sunday off.

Gods -- the directors.
    Cameras, greek
Centaurs on the boom,
    sliding w/ silent
Mobile grace

Toward me --
    a leaping clown
In the great sun's
    eye.

Grand danger there
    in curved thigh.
The avenging finger --
    lord.

DANCING & THRASHING

Dancing & thrashing
    the reptile summer
They'll be here long
    before we're gone
Sunning themselves
    on the marble porch
Raging w/in against
    the slow heat
Of an invaded Town

The Kingdom is ours

TRANSLATIONS OF THE DIVINE

Translations of the divine
in all languages. The Blues,
The records get you high,
in armies / on swift channels.
The new dreamer will sing
to the mind w/ thoughts
uncluthed by speech.
Pirate mind stations. Las Vegas T.V.
Midnite showings.

ELECTRIC STORM

electric storm
        from the front
barometer at zero
        forest
blue-eyed dog
        strangled by snow
Night storm
        flight-drive thru deserts
neon capitals, Wilderness
        echoed & silenced
            by angels

Angel Flight
    to tobacco farm
the roadhouse
    tomorrow

get ready for the Night
    the rumors on waking
a gradual feeling of
    learning & remembering

imagine a heaven in the
    night-time
      would one member be missing?

THE FORM IS AN ANGEL...

The form is an angel of soul
    from horse to man to boy
        & back again

Music sex & idea are the
    currents of connection

friendship transition

conductor of soul from the
    fat brain of stealth
        to sunset

Work out

Welcome to the night
Welcome to the deep good
    dark American Night

a man gets time to die
    his amber waste

sloven footsteps of swine

in the camps, w/ dark black
                      lumber
crooked stars have destiny's
                      number

Lord help us

LEAVE THE INFORMED SENSE

Leave the informed sense
in our wake
you be Christ
on this package tour
-- Money beats soul --

Last words, last words
out