Page 11 of Book of Blues


  Okay—dreaming fields—Blake

  wants to hear the latest development

  in the man the way the bleat

  lambs bleakly blake it now

  and that is soft,

  Ah William,

  I guess as soft as Spanish

  dreams, what was it Trappist

  said:— “Goats

  as

  soft

  as

  sleep”

  Something like that

  Farewell

  13TH CHORUS

  Jack Micheline

  “Feet of children playing by

  the mill”—he didnt say

  hill—When tongue gets

  caught inside the lapels

  of the mouth, that’s what

  I wanta hear—Like Fred

  Katz the cellist—or is

  it chellist?

  “Tongue crucified, seven stitched”

  is pretty weird

  Make it down to New Orleans

  one of these days

  says Moonlight Martin

  “Maniac massacred” on account

  of “blinded on stone”

  Wow, whatze mean?

  Like Wolfe’s Underground, mad dog

  choking in tunnels of hate

  “Spring has come

  yellow teeth & black hair”

  14TH CHORUS

  is exactly like the magnificent

  haiku mailed to President

  Eisenhower by Manosuke

  Kambe

  “They have succeeded

  in shooting up a star

  And Spring is near”

  Yeah, where down yonder

  in you now Where

  Now I’m getting to sound

  like a drearisome

  tangerine

  Folks, read Jack Micheline,

  n doubt about it

  He’s a great poeit

  And see?—read Gregory Corso

  too all about “bookies

  & chickenpluckers”

  & Read Competition Ginsberg

  the maddest brain

  in poetry

  15TH CHORUS

  Ginsberg has a poet who

  has a “great precise

  practical benevolence

  & new understanding,”

  and I have Jack

  Micheline, Steve Tropp,

  Steve White, and

  many other naked heads

  What I wrote first I kept,

  because I figure

  God moves

  the body hand

  because

  the body of the truth

  is a body

  corruptible

  in graves

  though

  nourishing,

  O Schweitzer

  Africa Trumpet!

  16TH CHORUS

  (And George Jones blows too!)

  “Kneeling in the sun beside

  the bright red mad beauties

  of Street!” sings Corso

  “I drag him into

  myricolorous St Chapelle

  Stained Glass marvel,”

  sings Ginsberg

  Dont discourage

  the poets!

  Sings Jack Micheline:

  “And kiss the strangers

  & plant the seeds of life among the dead”

  Because it’s a distant

  hightone rail

  “Flower of cities”

  17TH CHORUS

  And these sweet lines revive

  the open poetry of hope

  in old America

  long fish

  And this sweet moth revised

  the entelechy

  in my endebechy

  in old pardodechy

  where Croo-Ba

  made it working

  boy girls in

  He was hanged in the closet

  The King ate sliced sage

  John the Baptist had no head

  Jesus had nails in his skin

  The Neon’s nailed to me

  I wish I were dead

  Or King of Ronald Colman

  country, or Kin to Sariputra

  Shakespeare, one

  18TH CHORUS

  Well, s’long as barrel womps we’ll

  womp em on in, Used to write

  poems about Princeton boy rose

  Also Baltimore bleedings

  & think rabbit plate

  shit

  I wish I had

  a way

  to make

  Tuesday Sarah

  come by

  any day

  With China throwup

  hadnt Puttered

  men with me

  but bile was free,

  & girl long blonde

  taffy pull

  I guess best thing to do

  is to write to

  Blues Bessie

  19TH CHORUS

  I wonder what Emily’s thinkin

  in that groomus earth of

  coral snakes & alligators

  on the sidewalk, is she got down

  by Sunday in the Tomb, or

  does time matter no blow out

  bulbs of shame, Jesus, what

  shame in eyelid war life

  no shame at all in eyelid

  ant eat

  allied ant eat

  What wars Bismarck plotted

  on accounta ambitious

  bishops, I dont know,

  what Colbert built

  for Mazarin slurp,

  or why French Blond

  Hero bombs black

  Arab dream in sand

  of Berber Ya ke

  Silhouette Blue men

  veil, kill me, I’se

  free

  20TH CHORUS

  Jazz killed itself

  But dont let poetry kill itself

  Dont be afraid

  of the cold night air

  Dont listen to institutions

  When you return manuscripts to

  brownstone

  dont bow & scuffle

  for Edith Wharton pioneers

  or ursula major nebraska prose

  just hang in your own backyard

  & laugh play pretty

  cake trombone

  & if somebody gives you beads

  juju, jew, or otherwise,

  sleep with em around your neck

  Your dreams’ll maybe better

  There’s no rain,

  there’s no me,

  I’m telling ya man

  sure as shit

  21ST CHORUS

  That cat’s in paradise

  The noise of automobile sigh

  dont interfere with the knowing

  of me or any paper party

  but’s what smat smeldied

  on hey-now, Zulch!

  Truth is, cry

  Because the radar never was invented

  could find paradise sound

  or cat lost in the night

  radarless

  radar-less

  rad-arless

  radarle-ss

  rrrrt

  branged suitcases as a kid

  & sang to Glenn Miller’s

  Moonlight Serenade

  & Laid

  But O, Lor
d above,

  have pity on my

  missin kitty

  22ND CHORUS

  Usta smear ma lips with whiskey

  Fred and open up the doors

  to make a joke—while

  women waited

  and Bert Lahr waited

  playing what he waited

  like Duke Ellington

  used to sit staring at Seymour

  who implied to me the swing

  of the music by his

  low crash

  high abidin

  shoulders,

  Pap,

  and what wow hoo?

  Thotlatnape

  Compose Vehicle

  Special

  Banana

  Nine

  23RD CHORUS

  Bat bow

  lack Jack

  swing Bing

  that’s right!

  Yes

  backwards—wail—

  You’re gut okay man

  swing on along

  I don’t care

  I can do it

  too

  Orlak + +

  see

  24TH CHORUS

  If you once

  for all good

  times

  Man’s fine,

  know

  YOU KNOW

  25TH CHORUS

  My mind! even harder than

  my path, my freedom

  is in piano

  O, wow, wild wow

  NBC OOO

  piano

  Like Lee Konitz

  sky,

  Yay, wow?

  Sluke!

  Slow! Swing? THEN

  YOU GO—

  That new tenor cat

  made me drop my pencil,

  Elvin Jones

  26TH CHORUS

  Zoot Sims

  and his

  Johnny Williams

  “This Happy Leaping Thing”

  Kitty Drum Barry

  Gray, you like cemetary

  swing?

  “Big Xmas Seal”

  Hockey teams—?

  Al? —shape

  lay, & the Elington

  Good high school

  sex orgy

  girls

  in the woods

  of

  rape,

  nun dear

  27TH CHORUS

  The New Orleans New York

  Club

  wishes to announce

  the opening

  of

  new sessions,

  & new fields, Daddio,

  Dave Brubeck’s

  the swingingest

  And I wish to say

  Farewell

  to

  Al

  Smith

  Hello Dave

  28TH CHORUS

  For Minors Only

  is the name of a new record

  all about trumpet

  & trimban

  Zlap

  Peter Orlovsky

  is the cat to play to

  You see dont you dig

  on all sides

  the wild sounds?

  and o the conceptions

  you made

  on

  Thursday

  afternoon

  trumpet man, dont blow

  that thing at me,

  blow it to

  banana

  29TH CHORUS

  Timmy got back,

  soft Blakey lamb

  Timmy got back

  & wrote rhymes

  And we sat purring on the bed

  with Tammy

  And made it 5 percent

  thousand

  Times a day, swinging,

  we had sand,

  We had Gothic top

  Cathedral girls

  But O in Euniceburg

  they footballed

  Stupid me from Edgar

  Lear’s interior

  Majesty

  30TH CHORUS

  No, this lamby bit

  Is what I mean

  O Orlando, O sweet

  No Orlander phonecalls

  Georgia Flowerbranch

  Lamby mean, William,

  Lamb dust? Nnaaa!

  Softy uglu flutey?

  Almost—

  Pan flute Erdic

  Shook spear

  that Venusian cunt

  was neat when

  I’se a Nigger

  was

  a

  baby

  31ST CHORUS

  O Gary Snyder

  we work in many ways

  In Montreal I suffered tile

  and rain

  In Additional Christmas

  waylayed babes

  In old crow Hotels

  full of blue babes

  in pink dressinggowns

  down

  But O Gary Snyder,

  where’d you go,

  What I meant was

  there you go

  In Montreal I worked a manied-way

  And, better than Old Post,

  I learned t’appreciate

  in many ways

  Montreal, Soulsville,

  and Drain

  32ND CHORUS

  Listening to a guy play

  tenor saxophone &

  keep the tune inside

  chords & structures,

  as sweetly as this,

  you’ll experience

  the same

  fitly thrill

  you got from Mozart

  It is pure musical beauty,

  like a musicale

  among wigs

  People who dont understand

  jazz are tone-deaf

  & dont understand

  what tone-deaf &

  simply deaf

  meant to Ludwig

  33RD CHORUS

  van

  Beethoven

  *

  Goats as soft as break

  of day

  In swamp

  Mexico

  *

  Can diamond cut iron?

  Diamond cuts glass

  glass links

  But can it cut

  An iron link?

  Nirvana means Cut-Link

  If diamond dont cut glass

  or iron dont count,

  hey?

  maybe the Wisdom Vow

  o the Diamondcutter

  may have made it

  34TH CHORUS

  The only responsibility to a child

  is to feed, the rest is

  interference

  Can you just see

  a man arrested

  for letting his daughter

  fuck

  around the block

  anyway

  anywhere

  just so long as she got

  home to eat her

  dinner, he’s telling

  the cops

  absolutely that

  And the girl gets married?

  I have a bunch of stray cats

  in my yard

  I wouldnt have a daughter

  35TH CHORUS

  Whattayouwanta have er for

  You wanta sling sperm

  over her?

  A
vin her now, ey you

  old reprobate

  Lissen, just keep that daughter

  away from my knees

  after she’s thirteen

  And between ten & that

  tell her to lay off

  the rough stuff

  With boys you can play

  as rough as you want,

  but once ye spank em

  they hate you forever

  Oi Karamazov!

  36TH CHORUS

  O Apollo

  Men

  are the beautiful

  The women miss cats

  Cads & rogues

  of Montreal all,

  or blue diers in deep pars

  asking for golfscore

  But in any Case

  tsa united press

  37TH CHORUS

  Old dotin old fuck

  There’s this old man,

  he come down this road

  just a walking with some

  a whatyamaycallit

  in a big bottle

  & I dont know what was in it

  & it come night

  & I was in my house

  & here come this old man

  down the road

  drinking outa that bottle

  And there was Allen Wayne

  in his house

  38TH CHORUS

  & he had to hang this sheet

  on the clothesline

  & that old man dropped

  that bottle in his

  yard

  & that shu old man

  dropped that bottle

  down that road

  And that’s all,

  Uncle Fred

  39TH CHORUS

  Maybe it’s resting in the arms

  of Jesus,

  or just a cloudy windy day

  In the trees

  *

  But since there’s an infinite

  amount of angels,

  and Infinite ends in no ‘s,’

  it must be

  one angel

  Infinites Angels?

  Maybe that bird that floats

  hill belly on the wind up there,

  and that cat

  that pats

  in this grass,

  is the same

  Infinite

  Worldwide

  Angel

  40TH CHORUS