The low yellow moon above the Quiet lamplit house.
But a tree has a long suffering shapeIs spread in half by 2 limbed fate Rises from gray rain
And how sweet a story it is When you hear Charley Parker tell it, Either on records or at sessions, Or at offical bits in clubs,
The stars in the sky In vain The tragedy of Hamlet In vain The key in the lock
Tears is the break of my brow, The moony tempestuous Sitting downIn dark railyards When to see my mother’s face Recalling from the waking vision
The wheel of the quivering meat conception Turns in the void expelling human… Pigs, turtles, frogs, insects, nit… Mice, lice, lizards, rats, roan
Describe fires in riverbottom sand, and the cooking; the cooking of hot dogs spitted in whittled sticks over flames of woodfire
“Tryna get to sunny Californy” — Boom. It’s the awful raincoat making me look like a selfdefeated… murdering imaginary gangster, an i… a rueful coat, how can they unders…
I keep falling in love with my mother, I dont want to hurt her —Of all people to hurt. Every time I see her
The taste of rain —Why kneel?
One flower on the cliffside Nodding at the canyon
Man is not worried in the middle Man in the Middle Is not Worried He knows his Karma Is not buried
The great hanging weak teat of In… on the map The Fingernail of Malaya The Wall of China The Korea Ti—Pousse Thumb
Butte Magic of Ignorance Butte Magic Is the same as no—Butte All one light Old Rough Roads
Sweet sad young tenor Horn slumped around neck Bearded full of junk Slouches waiting For Apocalypse,
