At a certain point in my life

I realized that my mind had been incorrectly focused.

It would be, I realized,

a terribly difficult task to re-orient the focus mechanism.

I doubted I had the energy or dedication.

Therefore, I tried to imagine other,

less demanding proceedures

Whereby I might achieve the identical goal.

That is, the effect of re-focusing, without



without remarkable changes

The darkness falls

Vanishing was a resource now,

employed by crowds of people

best able to utilize the time of day.

Circulate without revealing deep thought,


printed information with speed.

Window washers--

Swept by doubt, plunged

Into space

And met deeper

Those who they heretofore dared not embrace.

A lunge still in flightThere must be a factor

of five

of seven

of seven

of seven or more desirable

waffles of truth

Still in flight from the mouth.


we didn't descide

what would or would not be significant.

We just chawed

which should be chewed

but nothing makes a mouth

shape that has any


So don't wait

Get right into it.

Jaws first--

lead with a chin, in fact

taking a good punch one,

getting finally waffle in face

almost inside it

famous enough.

But pies better make rhyme--

Eyes does my surmise for me,

If I say so. O.K.

So count, waffle-like

To seven.

When you reach that hum-dinger

You'll know--

Assuming you really reach

Into, it.

Is language, perhaps

the only thing worth complaining about?>

I didn't complain.

A word


lifted me.

Is language perhaps,

the only thing worth complaining about?

When I talk

I complain


Nothing but


ever manifests

Once upon a time, I tried to praise, in language.

But I missed the mark

because of my language

and I complained about it

on the very instant


The language police? The language police?

We're here because of complains , remembe?

I do remember.


everything I want,

rushes into my head--

My head?

Oh, I could have held it in my hands

once upon a time,

that great,

seminal factor,

once upon a time,

right now.

Did I hear you poking around in the rubbish heap again?


Did I hear you say 'again'?

Feeling-- wonderful,

I do wonder if that's an 'again' factor,

or just a bit of not quite looking at the wriost watch

because the brain meanies are out in force.

I thought everything was beautiful?

You mean, are even the meanies beautiful? Yes,

They are quite,

but as we sit down--

(A chair was pulled out from under him, causing a tumble)

I want to be good

But I was bad--

Better, and even I,

envied whoever made it happen to me.


I didn't want to come, did I.

Hello, I said.

I kicked

Then I got kicked.

Hello, I said.,Here I am sitting

alone in my parlor

I don't want to be here

I'd rather be free

I'd like to travel to

very strange places

where hopefully

I could be free

Language can do that for you.

Language police! Language Police! I'm constantly chased by the language police!

How about a magic castle.

How about, oputting a crown on your head.Of course, I don't know if you like living in paradise.

You consider this--

Paradise. Feel the ground shifting under your feet?

That's not desirable.

Feel it?


You must have a problem.

Maybe it is paradise after all.

Don't count on it

You expounded on it.

Not quite: I cut through the whole question with a single flash of my doubled-edged blade. Saying, happy to have you aboard, Mr Sliced in Two.

Funny, it didn't hurt.

That's a provocation, but I won't bite.


From your point of view or mine?

Don't we actually SHARE some things anyway?

It is, I should say, problematic.


It is, I should say, problematic. My being here. It is. I should say, problematic being here when I am not really here.

(Mellow/ Bop drum)

Oh well, firefighters never scared me, really,

because all fires I can possibly imagine are already put out and re-put out and re-put out and re-put out.

You definitely wanted to tell me that.

Could you tell?

My lips are sealed

Then I'll go further. Policemen never frightened me, because police activity just seemed too reasonable to remember, so every time I saw one I just said-- please, kill not your neighbor's wife, even, policeman, who replied, each in his turn I shall not, I shall not, I shall not.

You believe everything you hear?

Of course not

Do you let fear rule your life?

Of course not, surrounded as I am by policemen doing big jobs

Afraid then, not even of the unconscious.

Certainly not, the unconscious never frightens me, do you know why? I don't know why but I can imagine a better ending to every story and it comes easy, in a way. When you go fast enough, you're not frightened, because the next thing you see always turnsd into something else, so who has time for promises, right? And without promises, you can go on any vacation you like at the drop of a hat,--

Oh well, I'm not afraid of accidents because accidents never happen.

I'm not afraid of burnt toast or bad taste

I'm not afraid of snakes bites

I'm not afraid of animal tendencies

Because I'm so far from an animal, I live in a different realm compleely, and my reading lamp is so illuminated I can't even shit without one or two of the most important chapters going down the toilet at the same time

I know


I know it was reading matter that caused trouble.

What trouble.

I won't say it was verbal, but I will say your protestations is reminicent of something I can't identify with

I see you as fearless.

I am

I am too. I'm not afraid of heights because skipping parts of the adventure is what get's me where I go, that can be in any direction I choose, 'cause I

butter my hair--

--burnt toast.

--No, toss caution to the wind-wind or something and say fight it out, I've never bneen in one but I feel like blooming and that's the same thing for a delicate flower like me.

Somebody want's to give you some.



I don't need roses, I am roses

Afraid of winter?

Of course not

Afraid of next year


Afraid of next years roses?

I'll be back next year, and the year after, and the year after and after

--Take my hand.


More afraid?

Pricked, but not frightened yet.


Not frightened by anybody's blood because here's my technique, I don't look at no wound.

What you don't look at with two, three, maybe more eyes--

How many do I have?

--That's most frightening of all.

Then I'm not in trouble, because I don't accept your termonology or

the way you organize deep thoughts on a subject I just dropped.

Was I organized?

I guess so, or I wouldn't have gotten hurt even the least bit and the word ouch wouldn't have passed through red lips- mine, though I WOULD be dancing with roses in my hair, on fire of course, and you'd have a whole different attitude toward me so who's afraid?

Not me

Not me, so who's afraid?

Not me

Not me

So who's afraid?

Not me

Not me

(BOTH) So wh's afraid, not me, not me, not me, not me!Yes, to the vibrating finger

Close what's close

Demonically eat of gentle

direction, and allow


Notice how the voice

Vowels the experience--

thick falsity, in fact.

Your focal finger points to itself

Only by the non-point

of tremor.Poised almost

A head indian:

But the turbulence

Half breaks

Any available center it can muster.

I was


When the real day

Began pounding.

No. Yes.

I said it all

Did my vanish

Act complete?

Or was it a draw.

His wiped out

Revolver machine.

I sped and sped

again what spewed--

Could be again.

After many experiences, one ended.

One experience came to an end:

It wasn't thinking that came forward

But bounced, that much it did

It bounced

Against itself.

Thinking bounced against itself, it did.

And it bounced hard enough to continue

And it called itself,

Multiple bounce, a whole world.

That's all it took to make a whole

World of trees

World of ideas

world of tables

world of rats

world of skies

world of thinking itself

world of rivers

world of houses

world of laws


world of ideas

world of tracks

world of farms

world of value systems

world of music

world of pies

world of eye glasses

world of wars

world of beds

world of systems

world of blood

world of fliigree

world of wind

world of everything else

bounceA certain fear,

had not much to do with reality,

until it got tasted, really.

Until it realized, fear, it could do no wrong.

So it dressed, fear,

in jewels that blinded even itself

because of the light elsewhere.

Where does the light come from,

it should have asked but it didn't.

It prefered,


and those other affectations

of self dazzlement.

So it, through multiplication

Came upon itself again,

and was full of admiration

and said to itself

if this is fear, it isn't bad, fear.

But who spoke

when that being spoken

Flew into the heights of the room

where it


So the rain

which was whatever it was,

could not water the real flower

That wanted to make explosions

like the real


thing it was (not).The philosopher's table

Upside down

As always


Oh, it didn't rain

That was my own,

Wrist, falling through space

To slap it against

The tree that talked.

Look, many of those trees

Lining the road to the park

Where burials already

Made opera out of all

Previous agression.

I did, seizing the hand to my right

Tell more time, more time

And the fullness made of itself


So that an ordered world, said

Hey, I'm just a PIECE of the WORD.

With that for a foot, start

Circulate and circulate and circulate

I almost reached my starting. point

But alas--

The door shut. Nothing. A twist

of the kernal of space

Seeded me.


A non-aberant descent


Into harmony of incompatable sources



Miles from my telephone brain.

Look, again I lost contact

Giddy again

I dialed

Zero seed

Zero seed

Zero seed

Into a vibrating flower;

That said

Pass not

Which was the code. (Black base/ Grate)

Soon Soon

Did he throw a hat in the air

Soo, did a flutter

Turn automatic

Soon Soon

When a bar of chocklet

and a bar of soap

Were inter-changable,

what got a bubble, burst


Soon Soon

The place it fell to was

Uncomfortable delight

So rioll, twist

The mind behind the mind

So the grain irritant oyster

Goes snap

At the brain spark that lights up

MY whole world at least.

Roll Roll

I got no ocean

In my ocean.

Space out


Phase Phase

Don't get lost

Eating you basis

It goes out in a big circle

Loops back and says the tripple dip

Dips me, you and everybody in good stuff

When I stuff,

I say stuff

More stuff

Phase it, Phase it.

Veronica came into my life

Like a cyclone of plastic

Wjo got off first?

Hard to say, but when I

Stepped down from the bus

Boy, was I hot

Phase it, phase it

That means cool out the whole planet.

Air- dale and more

My holes to vent

Blocked up by the information--

That wasn't Veronica's trip,

So my return ticket

Stuck up

Tickled me

and I couldn't

Phase it, Phase it

So instead I

Phase it, Phase it

Phase it all the time

Phase it

The darkness falls--

no pearl, circle the tall tree

But hesitate.

Drink, hesitate

And the electricity of the pause


Inside it's own pause of thirst.

Then , a look

Which spreads wide the white of the sky


So many heads from the part directly over the brain

That the words of exaultation

Issuing from the pearl teeth, glisten

On all things

That rise


To the slow drift

of the wooden


Look, look toward the shadow

It's no shadow

It's the inside of light

There, already sleeping

And the trees

Manufacture an all purpose solution:

Which I flying

Self poised

In the direction already given

By non-saying

Somebody lowered the boom on me

Catch, but I was already out in the field where I said-- sunlight?

That's what I heard of, three or four million years ago.

Somebody passed funny money

Which I pocketed because

Being a thug was not taking me far before I again,

against myself, agent-like made only one or two very awful agendas.

Somebody said somebody

and presented a finger not in any direction so much which my eye could pick up like a nightengale nice and neat

but a blind arena like me was only in it for the fun, so why not hustle?

I did

I would

I won't tell the truth

Somebody made off with valuable secrets.

I had nothing in my pockets

but what I started out with was in and out

because no pocket was big enough to hold all the holes

I decided to count on,

because plant your expectations in the land of

doesn't it always happen when you want except look, there it is.



This is it,

a bird didn't tell me sure, but my eye was caught

and I said in one of those sets where I get trapped by an idea--

I'd rather sing than have a collection of bird photos that don't even

look good tumbling out of a wallet

when you wanna show off how proud yopu are

to have something besides the usual kids.Under water

Risen again.

I float not

But obey

So what sails

from me,

Is, utter wind,

That reach, interiour

That through itself

Only, enough

Courses in gold.

The repetition, is

A million times,

And I delegate it

To my warm poplars of vertical imagination only


is the direction

In which I must re-see

Each item



This very Roman light

I did cold experience

at heart of city's suburban

After being centered


l958 modern

lst Floor.

Shadow as slice

Here it is again>

Slice. Only slice

Leaves another shadow

I do/ I do not: join.

His grey feature

As rolled through city

His dappled, attention,

Provokes the lattace

Of glimpsed vista-cuts:

So into each bar-resturn=ant-cafe,

The nostril, like vortex

Into which goes

The exploratory

Wipe-out of whole


Body as stretched sleep--

I saw nothing

Til now

It's then.

The experience--

rolled up--

(it had time): (always time)


Into the unrecognizable


That is always honey.

Ummmm- strokes,

of the beaten wing

Flying homeHopeful

He giant entered

He gave way

to that mist that covered the city which was no city but a collection of not-recollected devices he had so long endured.


he no longer collected what his hopefullness revealed

under the hour glass of so many missed brown and gold hours of despondency and mutual effort


He flew,

but the mist through which he circulated did not cry "City, I know your corners and brilliant avenues, but I flap in your own busy wind, stride like the idea of jeweled accomplishment-- look, how the joint of arm and leg flash in the extention like multiple idea, concrete made

from even more accomplishment that renders pocketed, the solid fact of that particular dream.


he lifts.

And cities choir into themselves.


he rides to his own end of the line and half sleeps

Which is enough for total


which follows

In the mist.Gratitude, slips: through the net

Pile driver, inertia blooms.

A certain register

un-pre thought, but purchased:

Witnessed. Slow. Disappear>

In a city, no one speaks

Search for the hotel.Now, let me pick up a hammer (count'um)

Now, let me lift a sharp instrument which is really to be used on the tooth except I'll use it on ,my own gold eye

What god eye?

The one that sees through darkness because thats just an imaginary adventure. The moment I turn on the light everything, as you know, goes black.

Too bad I didn't bring my ice pick

Tooth pick?

Nobody said eye, so why black out the language?

It's my area of greatest sensitivity.

Oh? Does it grow out of your head like a stalk of realy celebrity>?

You look into that hole and you think you see yourself, but look twice--it's me!

AIEEE! (pain)

What he did was to, in a sense, arrive at a city so confusing that it was homogonous in that, at least, which was comforting to some and so it was comforting.

The city existed in silence, and as L. approached, it was as if a temperature was palpable rather than the usual buzz of conversation.The passing time itself, implied silence.The feeling of. . .'could' , that seemed to hover over the streets did whisper the same message. But L. had prepared himself. So there was no problem. There was nothing to talk about, because there was no talking.They wanted me to build, but I refused (Count'um)

Who wanted it?

They gave me a collection of motifs and said, build yourself a world-- was it a world? I don't think so. A city, or maybe a single house, or not a house even, but since a real storm is coming, a kind of minimal shelter only. I refused


I refused

On principal?

I refused

I refused.

Outside the real place

His longed for paradise did come

sooner than expectation.

A rare dimention,

Dreaming the leaf itself

eaten, tired

and the sky that arose

plate like, uncooled by the other dimentions

He choose not--

But the not

One hundred times again

In it's fast oscilation

made each wall necessary again--

Til decoration flowered inside

While the main

Hallucinating truth

again repeate

into the real.Should I gain

Should I ascertain

Should I even begin

Should I allow the real

Should I accomplish myself

or vanish into the agreed on happiness.

Should I duck for joy

When the horizontal elevator displaces

not smiles, but the long light of an afternoon wasted in discarded pleasure that pays back all golden memories

because the achieved bride of self

does that circular dance that

only real troupers know is

the harvest of what came

before anyone invented applause

and ruined the once and spontanious nothing at all,


Should I track

Should I encore

Should I toss off nothing

Should I count more than the accident- it happened.

But it did

Self-counted.When the wall of time

Is flat

Directions are still possible into the uni-direction, spread

Thouigh the capable hand mocks not

It's own elevated receptors

It does dive into the space of radical drift.

Sp time, which is a tint only

Residue of the real swoop-color

Fades again and again into its own


and the hands

Stretch, to no held

BeatNo a=oar

Rowed, up:

But the lengthen


and all collections


Because it was inherent:

That was, the form

Known to itself

From the great travelled distance

Smal;l, a unimagined drift

Don't think.

Here it is in the eye

But don't notice


Circles it. ShhhThe darkness falls

The sun rises

The metal container, stops metal

And inside, the pearl,

Leaves, shaken by adventure

Know-not leaving home,

Rooted in that disappearing morning

They fight the eye.

3,4,5 cars, flash-leven the streets

Like a traced ligament

Pulling from inside the old town

The old town illumination


Tracking itself

Into reverse dawn.

Oh, for a breakfast

Eaten in legitimte drift

Wood rotton

Birth to cymbal

Crack: MidnightHis own loose flute

animsal nature trembled

Sprung at lower

Hitherto loose berift

Renewed self-making: on-on

Make it whole tumolt

Says the animal mask revolved

Which speaks-- night-not

Filled day-not

With voice rush

Only rushA concept skim stone

hardly. by the eye

The noose re-towsle

of plunge depth-drench

again into it a grain

and again into it: again made

A life, crimsoned small

The decoration so the entry

Foundation like bodily

Leads was dreampt

Foam into more foam Solid.

Is this language

spoke, flying

It does


My face wiped


with language.


like a moving rock.

The self Wide

Non-harvest But look: look

Shift the small edge

Short un-cuts

Refused anticipation-only a re-made

A flutter conncrete that is throat

But space dipped-depth

Sucked to the non-whole Blown

Of wander-turbulance To the reverse corner

That: placid of some sky.The darkness falls

a mile, turned for itself,


Re-invest as palpable.

Responsibility in earth-terms.

And the jewel, lost in a revolving depth

Re-marked all possible progress--


in a quick mud,

blosseming, like the axel flower

of so sharp points.