stand by me

this poem's dirt

5. this poem's dirt

because it was glassy and wanted wear
though as for that the passing there had worn them
really about the
same.
if you know what i mean.

glassy. like new york
at christmas
or was it fucking new year's?
when did vomit
become castronomic?

on the left hand of morning
lies evening sitting standing and lying again.
lying down. on the left hand
(it feels like someone else
it feels like someone else)

i can't, the walrus said.
i can't talk shit. i feel fine.
we all feel
fine.
yesterday was yestered.

sequester-ation and ration.
on the headlines drips black
ink because yesterday's veins
of news are to let.
yesterday's news is collapsing itself.

3. fibonacci

lay down your branch,
your rood, rod, and staff,
cuz they comfort me.

covet ye my people,
covet it all. it's up in there.
i want this to be over.

yesterday had a middle and end
but no beginning.
we sang about shit,

jenny lind, oprah, rosecrucians (sp?),
yesterday, wrongdoing,
like bullfrogs in the bullrushes.

don't touch me with that shit.
i don't want to be comforted by your fucking rod,
papiols.

4. gastronomy

highlights of the field trip included
grass, weeds, dirt, worms, core, iron, saffron--
which i was just MAD about--yesterday, and persephone
coughing up mortal meatsack.

narcissus, hyacinth, let's face it,
were they ever going to procreate anyway?
and who did put the bom in the bom she bom she bom?
what about the dip in the dip de dip de dip?

yeah, who dipped that?
need i metion that whole rockland thing,
or can i just leave it to small children, cherubim,
tannis root, and mercury rising?

on the left we found darkness and mist.
on the right we found communist-style glyphs:
someone's head and a day-old sun.
carved in stone.

emotion: can it get even darker
than diahrrea, that storm raging inside you?
you let it all on out now, you hear?
don't let that shit fester as so:

2. plasticene fuckers in mulberry courval (sp?)

twomp-headed angels in fat come on a ladder
and someone smears oranges on someone else on film.

where electric naked children sit on streetcorners
waiting for white heat and dredge rivers for unbroke bottles.

squeezing out juice, out juice out juice.
this isn't helping.

where ma and pa of paterson go left at the light
because mapquest said so: hedons, here we come.

where willie tyler and lester are often mentioned
on mst 3000. yeah, no.

1. scenic view

there's a vista inside me. it opens up like it's got curtains. grief's pure, man, uncut, 100%, and i was in love once. i banged my head on the pavement and i died. later, there was a man in a trenchcoat who threatened to burn me up like a fish if i said anything. earlier, there was a memory of primroses. like it's got grecian pillars: fibonacci. rock back and forth. encounter a marmot. don't say anything more: