Everything (after a gasp)
is fine, already really.
Whatever it was.
“Anyway it happened”
Says Allen (Poe) Ginsberg –
Quote from Plato right?
Time on a Bat – growl of truck.
36th Chorus
No direction
No direction to go
Burroughs says it’s a time-space
travel ship
Connected with mystiques
and mysteries
Of he claims transcendental
majesties,
Pulque green crabapples
of hypnotic dream
In hanging Ecuad vine.
Burroughs says, We have destiny,
Last of the Faustian Men.
No direction in the void
Is the news from the void
In touch with the void
Everywhere void
No direction to go
(but)
(in) ward
Hm
(ripping of paper indicates
helplessness anyway)
37th Chorus
Mad about the Boy –
Tune – Fué –
Going along with the dance
Lester Young in eternity
blowing his horn alone
Alone – Nobody’s alone
For more than a minute.
Growl, low, tenorman,
Work out your tune till the day
Is break, smooth out the rough night,
Wail,
Break their Beatbutton bones
On the Bank of Broad
England Ah Patooty
Teaward Time
Of Proust & bearded
Majesty
In rooms of dun ago
in long a lash
alarum speakum
mansions tennessee
of gory william tree
– (remember that little
box of tacks?)
38th Chorus
(Pome beginning with parenthesis:–
God!)
Garver has an Aztec Hammer
To batter the tacks in
It’s made of Pyramid Stone
The shape of a Knot –
Cleopatra’s Knot –
The Knotty issue Marc
Brandelian Antonio
Julius Marc McAnthony
Thorny horn of hare
Propensities and hair
And disgusting to the bare.
Aztec Hammer, never stop.
Folded ripplefold over there
nice,
Tacks went in,
“It’s take an artist
to do all this”
Careful man of cellophane
decks
&
sometimes
ceremonial
silver foil
but
usually
plain pleasant paper
39th Chorus
Comfortable Patience –
Talkin about a Hobbyman
Who draws cartoons for a livin,
Bangin in tacks carefully
For King Features Syndicate
Has got him by the balls
And Hammerthongs
And central Goonyak
Worp Ward
Orphantail –
Aztec Stick –
ugly Spew Smoke
Dragon Beoryen
smitherwolf
Wildstar
Monster Over the Fence
is Frankenstein
Careful, true, Nirvana,
Patient in his Comfort,
Humble in his Demands,
Weary of the Fear,
No longer fearing
The fair happy air
Permeated with Cherub
And fingers a pair
In V Victory – meaning One
40th Chorus
Did bespat and beshit himself Rabelais,
Roundelay, singing with a chocolate
mouth
Did tangle in the gangles
of legs’ hair
And scream with the wine
in his glut.
“What do you think?”
This cover is most excellent,
It’s shiny and red,
This car will do nicely
All over the bed.
Rabelais was a mad nut
And also a doctor
And wrote of priests’ jocks
In 1492
Wha’ hoppen in Oaxaca?
– gluts rained glut
guts out of her
brimy bottard
and washed the old man’s
river underwear
41st Chorus
That other part of your mind
Where everything’s refined
To thin hare screamers
Must be in the cavern
Somewhere.