Mexico City Blues

  snow

  Gerard, Pa, lamb,

  Sax,

  Heaven, you, me.

  188th Chorus

  And tonight I’ll pray

  And O I’ll call Fugen

  and Kwannon to my aid

  and ask them to let me

  hear their transcendental

  silence sound,

  learning

  thereby

  Fugen

  Avaloki-

  tesvara’an

  mostafokas

  fakirs, makers,

  sing sound silence

  of my sound

  O bless me, make me safe,

  say, ‘No-Yo’ but save

  ‘Me no?’ save

  No-me – I beseech

  save no-me

  189th Chorus

  Petronic, Satiricon –

  The Black Mass is the Christian

  Devil Mass

  “A guy in there

  gives a supper

  and has his funeral oration

  spoken, & coffin bared

  in which he is to lie,

  all dishes are black,

  all food black & white

  (that which can be)

  – they have world-food

  at this banquet of death,

  the wealthy man celebrant

  says he’ll die early

  and violently”

  and Does he?

  Petronius Arbitum –

  elegant queer,

  my dear

  190th Chorus

  What I have attained in Buddhism

  is nothing.

  What I wish to attain,

  is nothing.

  Let me explain.

  In perceiving the Dharma

  I achieved nothing –

  What worries me is not

  nothing

  But everything, the trouble is

  number,

  But since everything is nothing

  then I am worried nil.

  In seeking to attain the Dharma

  I failed, attaining nothing,

  And so I succeeded the goal,

  Which was, pure happy

  nothing.

  No matter how you cut it

  it’s empty delightful boloney

  191st Chorus

  My startingplace and my goal

  are right here in this simple

  space hole

  Sings Shinran:–

  “All that have obstructions

  Are not impeded

  By the Clouds of Light.”

  It is like the Iddhi Magic

  Mentioned in Surangama Sutra,

  Where say, The Bhikshu

  Who delights in Transcendental

  Solitude and Brilliant Silence

  And Rhinoceros Sorrow

  Shall be saved, & transported

  Magically in the air

  To his Blessed Pure Land

  Diamond Irradiation

  From the Crown of Buddha.

  Wild – I wait by candlelight

  for confirmation

  (And I see waving whitenesses)

  192nd Chorus

  “O thou who holdest the seal

  of power, raise thy diamond

  hand, bring to naught, destroy,

  exterminate.

  O thou sustainer, sustain

  all who are in extremity.

  O thou purifier, purify all

  who are in bondage to self.

  May the ender of suffering

  be victorious. Om!

  Om! Oh! Thou perfectly enlightened,

  enlighten all sentient beings.

  O thou who art perfect in wisdom

  and compassion,

  Emancipate all beings, & bring

  them to Buddhahood. Om!

  Adoration to Tathagata (Attainer

  to Actual Isness), Sugata

  (Attainer to Actual Goodness),

  Buddha (Who is Awake), Perfect

  in Pity and Intelligence

  193rd Chorus

  Who has accomplished,

  And is accomplishing,

  And will accomplish,

  All these words

  Of mystery,

  Svaha,

  So be it,

  Amen.”

  Numberless roses arranged,

  The milk of merriment

  without the curds,

  The Pleased Milk

  of Humankindness

  The Frowns of worried saints,

  The Helpless Hands of Buddha

  burning,

  The Crown Prince of the Lotus

  Blossom Sky,

  Lover of all the mental phantoms

  in the mind –

  Wordmaker, curdmaker

  Kingmaker, Ding

  Dong, the Buddha’s Gong

  194th Chorus

  Being in selfless one-ness

  With the such-ness

  That is Tathagatahood,

  So is everybody else

  Lost with you

  In that bright sea

  Of non-personality.

  In teaching the Paramitas

  Of Virtue and Sweetness,

  The Wu-Weis of Love,

  The Tehs of Sensibility,

  And all the Tibetan Arhat

  Secrets of the Buddha Mountain

  World up & down of which

  We race in celestial racingcars

  On imaginary hills seeking

  Salvation at the goal,

  Flagged by Dominos of Bodhi

  And Oil men Ragged Hero

  Mechanic Sariputran

  Minnesinging Gurus, on we rave.

  195th Chorus

  The songs that erupt

  Are gist of the poesy,

  Come by themselves, hark,

  Stark as prisoners in a cave

  Let out to sunlight, ragged

  And beautiful when you look close

  And see underneath the beards

  the holy blue eyes of humanity

  And brown.

  The stars on high sing

  songs of their own, in motion

  that doesnt move, real,

  Unreal, singsong, spheres:–

  But human poetries

  With God as their design

  Sing with another law

  Of spheres & ensigns

  And rip me a blues,

  Son, blow me a bop,

  Let me hear ’bout heaven

  In Brass Fluglemop

  196th Chorus

  So I write about heaven,

  Smoke for the scene,

  Wanta bring everyone

  Straight to the dream.

  If you only could hold

  what you know

  As you know it forever,

  instead-a

  Moving from griefy to griefy,

  lament to lament,

  Groan, and have to come out

  and smile once again,

  – S teada all that,

  A hospital for the sick,

  Lying high in crystal,

  In heaven of pure

  adamantine

  Consanguine

  Partiality devoid

  Of conditions, free –

  Here I go rowin

  Thru Lake Innifree

  Looking for Nirvana

  Inside me

  197th Chorus

  Inside, Inside Me,

  I’se free

  Free as the bee

  Inside he.

  Lord have a mercy

  on Hallelujah Town

  I got to stomp my foot,

  And say, whee,

  hey dad, now oan,

  from now oan,

  I dont wanta

  cant wanta

  wont wanta

  hear about it

  not in my Oakland

  Saloon, not in my bar

  Not in my brokenglass

  Not in my jar

  Blue, black, race, grace,

/>   face,

  I love ye.

  198th Chorus

  Nirvana aint inside me

  cause there aint no me.

  Nirvana’s everywhere

  ’xceptin’ what’s everywhere

  And so all is nowhere.

  Swimmin free, in the lake free,

  Rowing to the other beachy.

  Tall guards you say? tall

  saloons? maloons?

  Tall goons? Tall tunes?

  Tall stately heroes

  Tall calm saints

  Tall long tendrils

  of cloud-air

  Tall unobstructed

  ghost whitenesses

  Imagining on the edge

  of the pier –

  Just not there.

  199th Chorus

  Empty balloons of gorgeous?

  Wild upskies bedazzling radiant?

  Immense arcades of secret joy?

  Caves of light, Ya-Vingo,

  dream-material palaces

  high in the texture

  of the high thought?

  Nirvana? Heaven?

  X? Whatyoucallit?

  Swear

  Huge milky areas of silence

  Permeated by rose petals

  crushed in diamond vats –

  Great baths of glory? –

  Singing quiet humsound?

  White light of black eternity?

  Golden Secret Figures

  Of Unimaginable

  Inexpressible Flowers

  Blooming in the One Own

  Mind

  Essence

  200th Chorus

  White figures throughout

  made of light,

  Like a truck becomes a square

  mass of shining light bars,

  Empty Apparitional secret

  figure of the mind.

  More than that. Face

  is mass of swarm-roe

  starlight, insanity

  itself personified

  & taking up space

  & penetrable throughout.

  Secret parleys with saviour

  Angels outside brown rooms

  Where phantoms converge

  In light, black and white,

  Dazzling in the middle

  With one Insane Bar Light –

  One Shiningness

  And you know darkness nullifies

  the color

  Into Nirvana No

  201st Chorus

  When the girls start puttin

  Nirvana-No on their lips

  Nobody’ll see them.

  Poor girls, did they always

  Want attention? Did they

  always disturb

  The sitting saint in the woods

  and make him feel

  Cheap by sayin: “Those

  guys think they

  can sit down & be God.”

  – “They think they dont

  have to work

  because they are God

  and they sit down

  and think they are God”

  – Those Guys …

  Over their heads is the unbelievable

  unending

  emptiness

  the enormous

  nothingness

  of the skies

  And they claim

  202nd Chorus

  A white poem, a white pure

  spotless poem

  A bright poem

  A nothing poem

  A no-poem non poem

  nondream clean

  silverdawn clear

  silent of birds

  pool-burble-bark

  clear

  the lark of trees

  the needle pines

  the rock the pool

  the sandy shore

  the cleanness of dogs

  the

  frogs

  the

  pure white

  spotless

  Honen

  Honey Land

  Blues

  203rd Chorus

  Heaven’s inside you but there’s no you.

  What does that mean?

  said the teacher,

  The Great Holy the All Holy

  Old Teacher:–

  All you’ve got to do

  Everytime you feel sick

  Is stop (this madhouse

  shot of yours

  is not exactly

  the immemorial miel)

  stop – and stare

  through the things

  before your eyes

  with eyes unfocused

  and as soon as they move

  you will have seen

  that they move

  to illusion.

  Seeing that all’s illusion

  You lose your mind

  In meditation

  And heal yourself well

  (AND WHAT’S BEEN HEALED?)

  204th Chorus

  What’s been buried in the grave?

  Dust.

  Perfect dust?

  Perfect dust in time.

  Time.

  Time is dust.

  Time’s not dust

  Time’s already happened

  immemorially

  The pearl of the gods

  the agonizer of Wests

  The ball in the bubble

  void

  Time –

  Dont worry bout time.

  What’s been buried inside me

  for sure?

  The substance of my own father’s

  empty light

  Derived from time working

  on dirt

  And clay bones.

  Buddha’s River.

  205th Chorus

  Enter the Holy Stream.

  March with the Saints.

  Follow along the emptiness.

  Follow bright the ferrymen

  And follow the All Star

  And sing with the others

  In praise of the light

  In praise of the emptiness

  so bright

  In praise of the OO-LA-LA’S

  Of Parisian Women.

  In praise of the singsong

  mingsong

  brokesong

  lostsong

  Ah Time

  Ah Perturbable

  Me, Sir,

  Dis-beturbable Ameget

  Me

  206th Chorus

  Maaaaaah! said the sheep

  And opened its foxtail soft

  Mouth to say something empty,

  To express its reverentation,

  And M n a a a came

  the bull cry something-cry

  Because you cant sing

  open yr mouth with poems

  without you make sound

  and sound is wrong

  sound is noise

  But only human speech

  and also all sentient

  communication

  pointing to the finger

  that points at sound

  saying ‘Sound is Noise’ –

  Otherwise

  sound itself

  un-self-enlightenable

  would go on blatting

  & blaring unrecognized

  as emptiness and silence

  207th Chorus

  Aztec Blues – Imitation of Pound

  A God called “Drink the Flood

  Water” – HUETEOTL –

  Is a very old God.

  What older God could you get

  GLED-ZAL-WAD-LE,

  The Sound of the Feathered Serpent,

  cause of the flood.

  He came from:

  “Destroyed-Over-Flooded-Land-

  Exiled-Him-Water-Pour,”

  Which means: He is Water.

  He is the Flood.

  He is the Ocean that Floods

  Serpent as the Sign of Flood, Ah

  Sax –

  Bird-feather is a sign of escape,

  flight, exile –

  The Feathered Serpent
/>
  Snakes that Fly

  Nail Eternity

  To bye/

  TONA TI UH:- “Of the Sunken Your Ear”

  208th Chorus

  Anciently in cities

  men have been sitting

  in waiting rooms

  in the night bloated

  with food and alcohol

  waiting waiting waiting

  as though the city existed not.

  They are so old.

  They think all alike.

  I’ve seen them die in chairs

  Quietly in cities they never planned.

  Seen them sing in saloons

  For muffled uproars.

  Seen men in coffee houses

  Shoot the opium cup

  With Greeks of Brotherhood.

  Aztec Pulque Distributors

  Rembrandtian city committees

  And unions of Masons –

  Shoot the sperm cup to me, Jim,

  These partitioned Anglo Spanese

  Singing sneerers perturbing

  You in the background

  Are your father’s kindly

  buriers

  209th Chorus

  Well, that about does me in.

  I’ve packed my bags and time

  Has come to start to heaven.

  Afraid of the trip. Always

  Thought it was short & snappy

  And I wouldnt worry. Or

  Always thought I’d be glad to go.

  But who’s glad to go? I want gold.

  I want rich safety in my legs

  And good bones made of empty milk

  Of God-Kindness – I want

  I need I cry like baby

  I want my Partotooty

  Sweety backpie back

  And dong strang bang bong

  Dont scrounge my yoll-scrolls

  And try to fool with me

  One more time & I report you

  To the pimp, whore God –

  I got the woozes

  Said the wrong thing

  Want gold want gold

  Gold of eternity

  210th Chorus

  Impressionism. The drowned afternoon

  along the sunny carnival –

  Trees waving over rock walls

  of drowned scummers –

  Glutted bloatbellies blue as the bay

  scummed in tangle raft –

  Shit on a leaf, by the pier,

  shit used as leaf paper

  Piled by flooded Ack Merrimoil

  the Plantaneous River

  of Fra Devilico Mojostico

  the Funny Folly Phoney balloon

  of Polateira Mia OOLA

  the Crap’ in-ping, Caing,

  and mutter of imbecile

  boys in jungle beehive fish.

  Blop.