George raft hat
coming come’ without my mind’
sunday 9 a.m. through grafton
gulley & over’ that bridge’
past th electric mouths
of yawning kids
bracing on th teeth
& sulphur on th tongue
past some lush / all over hung
&
crashed on a slatted bench
all
crumpled & embryonic
(hand between th thighs)
worldly wise! hostory unfurled!
ah! dead! / to ‘th fucking worlde!’
coming’home’without my mind
again
watching th stories & poems
th people make
passing along th kerb
against th railings of th da
& rantings
of th dead-
light/shade/light/shade
‘as if from world to world’
through that gulley like jimson
& weeds in th electric head
& sudden
flashes / too
from out th void
the unknown/yeah/
o zone … o trackless
tram !
yr shazam bolt of striped lightning
glows in my eye a long time
– a long time
under heavy skies / cool discguise
of patterned power! nietszche
lies
in th gutter .. / i hear him sing
‘buy you a diamon’ ring
my frien’ ‘
th end. /
streaks of bacon lie curled
on th thick willow pattern plate
through th river of some restaurant window
& above this / in cursive script
up high / 180 * ! / th legend
TODAY SPECIAL
bring me to th knees… ah!
thats th line! / since time began
fr all who were brought up t’eat th shit
‘ real pretty ‘
thats th line / th holy village
th sunken city ! (since time began )
TODAY SPECIAL
on th instalment plan.
outside th Jewish cemetary / 2 lean
& graceful pakistani’s stand
th woman & th man . . .
& i
am watching them watching me
watching
. . .
& i am watching them in their sleeveless
fair isle pullovers / fawn & blue
& they look through
th
years –
as they
discuss the ‘ mawgan dovid ‘
on th gate
& then
there are these, persons, in th trolley bus
who are watching, too
early and late
O
yeah.
&
now a flight of sparrows weaves between us all
th time of day
TH TIME OF DAY
& th green bus
slides
quietly )away.(
ancient Chinese philosopher in the george raft hat
& carpet slippers, too
leans ‘ a space ‘ against some wall
in th sudden sun
looking starry eyed ! looking great !-
( with th elements ) O looking benign
( though slightly undone )
in th same
old
way . . & he
is turning, now, to face th new
motorway monuments
from out old clay.
behind him
a huge
& juicy nude pouts/ in orange & green
like Marilyn’s death mask
truly beautiful! in th karangahape road strip joint
clsed (fr business) all in th cool day
o largesse ! / o $ signs within the purple eye
o history unfurled !
ah. wisdom/ like th scent
of rain. . .
coming ‘home’ without my mind/ again . . .
ah,visions
visions
VISIONS OF THE CARDBOARD WORLD!
dischordance 