VERBATIM ÒWE EAT OUR WORDSÓ PARTY

 

PANTOUMS

THE SPIDERS WEB OF POLYGAMY

 

In a town bred for incest,

A cross-wire connection.

A spider waits there

In the webs shining center

 

A cross-wire connection

Sputters, sparks, stumbles--

IN the webs shining center

This fly slips on threads, on life.

 

Sputters, sparks, stumbles --

A spider arrives

This fly slips on threads, on life

More spiders, more spiders, tumbling into each other

 

A spider arrives...

a quick dash of its tongue, flesh so sweet --

More spiders, more spiders, tumbling into each other,

A heart so saturated with the venial pulse of desire.

 

A quick dash of its tongue, flesh so sweet

Bound in gossamer by decisions own right

A heart so saturated with the venial pulse of desire

it collapses to wait

 

Bound in gossamer by decisions own right

Crushed like a Volkswagen Bug beneath a tractor.

A heart so saturated with the venial pulse of desire

Yet bound by the chains of arachnid industry

 

Crushed like a Volkswagen Bug beneath a tractor

She felt cold and clammy

Yet bound by the chains of arachnid industry,

her life depended on their healing-heat secretions

 

She felt cold and clammy

She hoped there were enought spiders to keep her.

Her life depended on their healing-heat secretions

Which is why

 

She hoped there were enough spiders to keep her

in a town bred for incest

Which is why

A spider waits there.

 

Pantoum

 

There -- I can smell it:

The sharpness, the clarity of

The spice & citrus -- whereas this color-blindness

Renders everything ginger-tinted.

 

The sharpness, the clarity of

Thought impels motion,

Renders everything ginger-tinted,

Penetrates vision.

 

Thought impels motion

As if it were aerial,

Penetrates vision

Flying through spheres.

 

As if it were aerial,

Brown sugar-soaked prophesy

Flying through spheres,

Coaxing cinnamon-stained thought,

 

Brown sugar-soaked prophesy

Foreseeing stones rolling into vast reefs,

Coaxing cinnamon-stained thought

Of a girl so fair from California.

 

Foreseeing stones rolling into vast reefs,

I hurled. Thoughts

Of a girl so fair from California

And AM radio songs stuck on golden oldies.

 

I hurled thoughts

From the car, listening to their thud and bounce

And AM radio songs stuck on golden oldies

In which the thoughts floated so pure over the airwaves.

 

From the car, listening to their thud and bounce,

The pile drivers took on new�� rhythms, like ten-gallon pickle drumming

In which thoughts floated so pure over the airwaves,

Which all the bulldozers in that Tinseltown state could not rectify.

 

The pile drivers took on new rhythms, like ten-gallon pickle drumming.

There -- I can smell it

Which all the bulldozers in that Tinseltown state could not rectify:

The spice and the citrus -- whereas this color blindness.

 

 

 

 

ÒYah-YahÓ

 

Holes -- vision -- a melting response

To crave new form, new substances.

Am I stuck to repeat the world s sour fruit

By bearing a child so much like me?

 

To crave a new form, new substances

Break the back of institutionalized dicta.

By bearing a child so much like me,

We ll be ecstatic fledgling but ll

 

Break the back of institutionalized dicta,

Create a monster with tooth-nail teeth.

We ll be ecstatic fledgling but ll

Begin to ask frowning questions.

 

Create a monster with tooth-nail teeth;

Holes -- vision -- a melting response

Begins to ask frowning questions:

Am I stuck to repeat the world s sour fruit?

 

 

Dogcat��cher

 

Got trapped in a corner

By the man whose duty

Is to put my ass behind bars.

The dogcatcher s no different from God.

 

By the man whose duty was

To pound the stars into our head, hung a poster saying:

ÒTHE DOGCATCHER S NO DIFFERENT FROM GODÓ

To remind us that we are all small specks in the great Milky Way

 

To pound the stars into our heads, he hung a poster saying:

ÒTHE WORLD IS MADE OF WORDS!Ó

To remind us that we are all small specks in the great Milky Way

And if we know the words of which the world is made, we can make of it whatever we wish.

 

The world is made of words

Whose earthy, forest smell insinuates:

ÒAnd if we know the words of which the world is made, we can make of it whatever we wish --

Be it psychedelics or pragmatism, the ObjectÓ,

 

Whose earthy, forest smell insinuates:

ÒGet trapped in a corner!Ó

Be it psychedelics or pragmatism, the object

is to put my ass behind bars.

 

 

 

 

 

The whiteness of noon,

through greenness of

forests of growing freeness,

turns water to wine.

 

Through greenness of��

my ears canals, I crawl for the truth while Matt

turns water to wine,

underwater rhymes? or unfixed lines?

 

My ears canals, I crawl for the truthe while Matt

sings songs for this crackling fire --

underwater rhymes? Or unfixed lines?

We went wild strawberry picking in July.

 

Sing songs for this crackling fire,

my darling Ginger, and give me fruit.

We went wild strawberry picking in July;

the juice dripped from our lips onto the fine white sand.

 

ÒMy darling Ginger, give me fruit!Ó

I kept the taste quietly to myself while

the juice dripped from our lips onto the fine white sand

and I whispered my name as its pattern.

 

I kept the taste quietly to myself.

The whiteness of noon

whispered my name as its pattern

in forests of growing freeness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

300 feet below the surface of the sea

 

Alone in my depth

I at last spread out

and try to fathom

the intention of fishes.

 

I at last spread out

the tendrils who fathom

the intention of fishes --

Be there, always, always, never cease.

 

The tendrils w��ho fathom

the caverns inside

be there, always, always, never cease...

Like diving through rock...like breathing water.

 

The caverns inside

the cliffs of the mountain

like diving through rock, like breathing water,

will cease to be inspiring.

 

The cliffs of the mountain

uphold trees of coral. The ocean

will cease to be inspiring.

I will myself

 

uphold trees of coral. The ocean

family farming beds of life.

I will myself

through illusions of light.

 

Family farming beds of life,

I seek to salvage my twisted knife,

through illusions of light

and the crystal constructions of youth.

 

I seek to salvage my twisted knife

alone in my depth,

and the crystal constructions of youth

I try to fathom.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Shattered Mushroom Funk

 

A tremor, percussive concussion

Which shattered the vase or the window

In this funk of darkness and moisture,

A mushroom will sprout from the abcess.

 

Which shattered the vase or the window?

The heat rising from these hands?

A mushroom will sprout from the abcess

But sink back into these ru�Áddy cheeks, shame-facedly.

 

The heat rising from these hands!

Fire in the belly, purple with intentions,

That sink back into those ruddy cheeks, shame-facedly

Burning with schemes in the pregnant darkness.

 

Fire in the belly, purple with intentions,

Blue with foreknowledge, red with prophesy,

Burning with schemes in the pregnant darkness,

Splattering wise nothings into my ears.

 

Blue with foreknowledge, red with prophesy,

Sour lips attached their possessive yearnings,

Splattering wise nothings into my ears,

And nothing but vile etymologies made any sense.

 

Sour lips attached their possesive yearnings

To bite and bring forth purple blooms.

And nothing but vile etymologies made any sense

With the blood rushing to the abcess.

 

To bite and bring forth purple blooms,

A tremor, percussive concussion,

With the blood rushing to the abcess

In this funk of darkness and moisture,

 

A mushroom will sprout.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The bag which hung sullenly by my side�Ë

Became suddenly elephantine,

Drangging me into the swamp

Where will o wisps whispered my name

 

Became suddenly elephantine,

Enlarging proboscis

Where will o wisps whispered my name

Into vast and wrinkled ear-caverns

 

Enlarging proboscis

Through permaculture and organic loam.

In vast and wrinkled ear-caverns

I vowed never to build again.

 

Permaculture and organic loam

Glanced against the satchel.

I vowed never to build again,

Only to take fruit and earth in summer.

 

Glanced against the satchel,

The equipment reminded me of days down deep when I needed

Only to take fruit and earth in summer

Beside and in the blue that was limitless

 

The equipment reminded me of days down deep when I needed

A chance to relax, one dream, one life

Beside and in the blue that was limitless.

I curled my lips and breathed a sigh....

 

A chance to relax, one dream, one life,

The bag which hung sullenly by my side....

I curled my lips and breathed a sigh,

Dragging me into the swamp.