For Pamela Susan
I think I was once
I think we were

Your milk is my wine
My silk is your shine


a series of notes, prose-poems
stories, bits of play & dialog
Aphorisms, epigrams, essays

Poems? Sure

I think the interview is the new art form. I think the self-interview is the essence of creativity. Asking yourself questions and trying to find answers. The writer is just answering a series of unuttered questions.

It's similar to answering questions on a witness stand. It's that strange area where you try and pin down something that happened in the past and try honestly to remember what you were trying to do. It's a crucial mental exercise. An interview will often give you a chance to confront your mind with questions, which to me is what art is all about. An interview also gives you the chance to try and eliminate all of those space fillers . . . you should try to be explicit, accurate, to the point . . . no bullshit. The interview form has antecedents in the confession box, debating and cross-examination. Once you say something, you can't really retract it. It's too late. It's a very existential moment.

I'm kind of hooked to the game of art and literature; my heroes are artists and writers.

I always wanted to write, but I always figured it'd be no good unless somehow the hand just took the pen and started moving without me really having anything to do with it. Like automatic writing. But it just never happened.

I wrote a few poems, of course. I think around the fifth or sixth grade I wrote a poem called "The Pony Express." That was the first I can remember. It was one of those ballad-type poems. I never could get it together though.

"Horse Latitudes" I wrote when I was in high school. I kept a lot of notebooks through high school and college, and then when I left school, for some dumb reason - maybe it was wise - I threw them all away . . . I wrote in those books night after night. But maybe if I'd never thrown them away, I'd never have written anything original - because they were mainly accumulations of things that I'd read or heard, like quotes from books. I think if I'd never gotten rid of them I'd never be free.

Listen, real poetry doesn't say anything, it just ticks off the possibilities. Opens all doors. You can walk through any one that suits you.

. . . and that's why poetry appeals to me so much - because it's so eternal. As long as there are people, they can remember words and combinations of words. Nothing else can survive a holocaust but poetry and songs. No one can remember an entire novel. No one can describe a film, a piece of sculpture, a painting, but so long as there are human beings, songs and poetry can continue.

If my poetry aims to achieve anything, It's to deliver people from the limited ways in which they see and feel.

Jim Morrison
Los Angles, 1969-71

The Opening of The Trunk
-Moment of inner freedom
when the mind is open & the 
infinite universe revealed
& the soul is left to wander
dazed & confus'd searching
here & there for teachers & friends.

Moment of Freedom
as the prisoner
blinks in the sun
like a mole
from his hole

a child's 1st trip
away from home

That moment of Freedom

Cold treatment of our empress
The Transient Universe
Instant communion and

emeralds in glass
searchlights at twi-light
stoned streets in the pale dawn
robed in exile
swift beat of a proud heart
eyes like twenty
swift dream
frozen heart
soldiers doom
clouds & struggles

doomed from the start
"That's how I met her,
lonely & frozen
right from the start"

Then stop.
The wilderness between.
Go round the march.

he enters stage:

Blood boots. Killer storm.
Fool's gold. God in a heaven.
Where is she?
Have you seen her?
Has anyone seen this girl?
         snap shot (projected)
She's my sister.
Ladies & gentlemen:
    please attend carefully to these words & events
    It's your last chance, our last hope.
    In this womb or tomb, we're free of the
          swarming streets.
    The black fever which rages is safely
        out those doors
    My friends & I come from
    Far Arden w/ dances. &
         new music
    Everywhere followers accure
        to our procession.
    Tales of Kings, gods, warriors
         and lovers dangled like
         jewels for your careless pleasure

              I'm Me!

Can you dig it.
My meat is real.
My hands - how they move
balanced like lithe demons
My hair - so twined & writhing
The skin of my face - pinch the cheeks
My flaming sword tongue
spraying verbal fire-flys
I'm real.
I'm human
But I'm not an ordinary man
No No No

What are you doing here?
What do you want?
Is it music?
We can play music.
But you want more.
You want something & someone new.
Am I right?
Of course I am.
I know what you want.
You want ecstasy
Desire & dreams.
Things not exactly what they seem.
I lead you this way, he pulls that way.
I'm not singing to an imaginary girl.
I'm talking to you, my self.
Let's recreate the world.
The palace of conception is burning.

Look. See it burn.
Bask in the warm hot coals.

You're too young to be old
You don't need to be told
You want to see things as they are.
You know exactly what I do

I am a guide to the Labyrinth

Monarch of the protean towers
on this cool stone patio
above the iron mist
sunk in its own waste
breathing its own breath


I can make the earth stop in
it's tracks. I made the
blue cars go away.

I can make myself invisible or small.
I can become gigantic & reach the
farthest things. I can change 
the course of nature.
I can place myself anywhere in
space or time.
I can summon the dead.
I can perceive events on other worlds,
in my deepest inner mind,
& in the minds of others.

I can

I am

People need Connections
  Writers, heroes, stars,
To give life form.
A child's sand boat facing
 the sun.
Plastic soldiers in the miniature
 dirt war. Forts.
Garage Rocket Ships

Ceremonies, theatre, dances
To reassert Tribal need & memories
a call to worship, uniting
above all, a reversion,
a longing for family & the
safety magic of childhood.

The grand highway


               Now is blessed
                    The rest

A man rakes leaves into
a heap in his yard, a pile,
& leans on his rake &
burns them utterly.
The fragrance fills the forest
children pause & heed the
smell, which will become
nostalgia in several years

Rain & Thunder
Jet from the base
Hot searing insect cry
The Frogs & crickets
Doors open & close
The smash of glass
The Soft Parade
An accident
Rustle of silk, nylon
Watering the dry grass
Rattlesnake, whistles, castanets
Lawn mower
Good Humor man
Skates & wagons

Where'd you learn about
  Satan - out of a book
Love? - out of a box

night of sin (The Fall)
-1st sex, a feeling of having
done this same act in time before
O No, not again

Between childhood, boyhood,
& manhood (maturity) there
should be sharp lines drawn w/
Tests, deaths, feats, rites
stories, songs, & judgments

Men who go out on ships
To escape sin & the mire of cities
watch the placenta of evening stars
from the deck, on their backs
& cross the equator
& perform rituals to exhume the dead
dangerous initiations
To mark passage to new levels

To feel on the verge of an exorcism
a rite of passage
To wait, or seek manhood
enlightenment in a gun

To kill childhood, innocence
in an instant
guide lines
The Vikings & explores
The unconscious

a map of the states
The veins of hiways
Beauty of a map
Hidden connections
Fast trampled forest

Madness in a whisper
neon crackle
The hiss of tires
A city growls

rich vast & sullen
like a slow monster
come to fat
& die

Worship w/ words, w/
sounds, hands, all
joyful playful &
obscene - in the insane

We can do it on a sunny
floor w/ friends & make
any sound or movement
that comes. Roll on our
backs screaming w/ mirth
glad in the guilt of our
madness. Better to be
cool in our worship &
gain the respect of the
ancient & wise wearing
those robes. They know
the secret of mind-change

"Have you ever seen God?"
  - a mandala. A symmetrical angel.

Felt? yes. Fucking. The Sun.
Heard? Music. Voices.
Touched? an animal. your hand.
Tasted? Rare meat, corn, water 
         & wine.

An angel runs
Thru the sudden light
Thru the room
A ghost precedes us
A shadow follows us
And each time we stop
We fall

No one thought up being;
he who thinks he has
Step forward

Shrill demented sparrows bard
The sun into being. They rule
dawn's Kingdom. The cars -
a rising chorus - Then
workmen's songs & hammers
The children of the schoolyard,
a hundred high voices,
complete the orchestration

"In that year there was
    an intense visitation
      of energy.
I left school & went down
    to the beach to live.
      I slept on the roof.
At night the moon became a
     woman┤s face.
I met the Spirit of Music."

An appearance of the devil
on a Venice canal.
Running, I saw a Satan
or Satyr, moving beside
me, a fleshy shadow
of my secret mind. Running,

The day I left the beach

A hairy Satyr running
behind & a little to the

In the holy solipsism
   of the young

Now I can't walk thru a city
street w/ out eying each
single pedestrian. I feel
their vibes thru my
skin, the hair on my neck
-it rises.
Eternal consciousness
   in the Void
(makes trial & jail seem almost

a Kiss in the Storm

(Madman at the wheel
gun at the neck
space populous & arching

A barn
a cabin attic

Your own face
in the mirrored window

fear of restroom's
Tragic cold

I'm freezing


white wings of

grey velvet deer

The The Canyon

The car a craft
in wretched

Sudden movements

& your past 
to warm you
in Spiritless

The Lonely HWY
Cold hiker

Afraid of Wolves
& his own Shadow

The Wolf
who lives under the rock
has invited me
to drink of his cool
Not to splash or bathe
But leave the sun
& know the dead desert
& the cold men
   who play there.

a ha
Come on, now
luring the Traveler
Mighty Voyager
Curious, into its dark womb
The graves grinning
Indians of night
Westward luring
into the brothel, into the blood bath
into the Dream
The dark Dream of conquest
& Voyage
into night, Westward into the Night
Clothed in sunlight
restless in wanting
dying of fever

Changed shapes of an empire
Starling invaders
Vast promissory notes of joy

Wanton, willful & passive
Married to doubt
Clothed in great warring monuments
of glory

How it has changed you
How slowly estranged you
Solely arranged you

Beg you for mercy

The Crossroads
   a place where ghosts
   reside to whisper into
   the ear of travelers &
   interest them in their fate

Hitchhiker drinks:
"I call again on the dark
   hidden gods of the blood"

-Why do you call us?
 You know our price. It
 never changes. Death of
 you will give life
 & free you from a vile
 fate. But it is getting late.

-If I could see you again
 & talk w/ you, & walk a
 short while in your company,
 & drink the heady brew
 of your conversations,
 I thought

-to rescue a soul already
 ruined. To achieve respite.
 To plunder green gold
 on a pirate raid & bring
 to camp the glory of old.

-As the capesman faces
 poisoned horns & drinks
 red victory; the soldier,
 too, w/ his trophy, a
 pierced helmet; shuddering
 his way into inward grace

- laughter) Well then. Would
 you mock yourself?


-Soon our voices must become
  ne, or one must leave.

Forest strong sandals
burnt geometry fingers
around a fire
reading history in blackened
books, charcoal sentence
in moot splendor

Sire, we met inEden
The troubled time
we had
rustling in the night leaves
a sniper aimed at our window
a kitten mewing in the blasted
strong air
I must go see

-You've found your Voice,
 friend, after all else
 I recognize fast the
 Strong sure tones of
 a poet
 was it a question
 search or of strangling?
 I wonder
 We never talked
 But welcome here
 to the camp fire
 Share our meal
 w/ us
 & tell us of your life
 & the hanging

-Well 1st I screamed
 & I was a child again alive
 Then nothing til the age
 of 5

 & then summers & the racetrack
 I looked for a girl in
 New Mexico
 & found jail
 The prostitute looked out
 her cell & saw
 Fuck god scratched
 on a leprous wall

-You're rambling boy
 what of the rest
 the jazz hiway
 he winks.

-I got picked up
 & rode thru the night

-did you see any buildings

-did I . . .
 What was I doing
 of course we danced plenty
 She had nice sides
 the cop hit me
 Stop, I don't remember

-The logs are melting
 we must move on
 The fire's ending
 we'll hear more
 at the next alter

    [musical interlude]

The American Night
We went thru 5 cords
 of wood this winter

-he told me beautiful stories
 & had the most beautiful visions
 He was a truly religious man
  at the end

-you know, I like you guys

 (I saw this cat run out
  of the ocean, one night,
 and beat-off into a fire)

 I'm going down to Mexico
 To this border town I heard
 about & I'm gonna buy
 me a girl & bring her
 back up here & merry her, it's
 true. This guy told me.
 A friend of his knew someone who

-You're too much
There was preserved
in her
The fresh miracle

The Night is young
            & full of rest
I can't describe the
            way she's dress'd
She'll pander to some strange
Anything that you suggest
Anything to please her guest
criminal metabolism of guilt forest
Rattlesnakes whistles castanets

Remove me from this hall of mirrors
This filthy glass

Are you her
Do you look like that
How could you be when
no one ever could

Poet of the call-girl storm

She left a note on the bedroom door.
"If I'm out, bring me to."

I dropped by to see you
          late last night
But you were out
          like a light
Your head was on the floor
& rats played pool w/ your eyes

Death is a good disguise
for late at night

Wrapping all games in its calm garden

But what happens
when the guests return
& all unmask
& you are asked 
to leave
for want of a smile

I┤ll still take you then
But I'm your friend
everyone has Their own magic

There is no death

so nothing matters

High style

Flash & forgive me

high button shoes

clean arrangement

messy breeding

love's triumph

everlasting hope & fulfillment
for leather accrues
   The miracle of the streets
The scents & smog &
   pollen of existence

Shiny blackness
   so totally naked she was
   Totally un-hung-up

We looked around 
   lights now on
To see our fellow travelers

I am troubled
By your eyes

I am struck
By the feather
of your soft

The sound of glass
Speaks quick

And conceals
What your eyes fight
To explain

She looked so sad in sleep
Like a friendly hand
   just out of reach
A candle stranded on
   a beach
While the sun sinks low
   an H-bomb in reverse

Everything human
   is leaving
      her face

Soon she will disappear
   into the calm


My Wild Love!

I get my best ideas when the
telephone rings & rings. It's no fun
To feel like a fool - when your
baby's gone. A new ax to my head:
Possession. I create my own sword
of Damascus. I've done nothing w/ time.
A little tot prancing the boards playing 
w/ Revolution. When out there the
World awaits & abounds w/ heavy gangs
of murderers & real madmen. Hanging
from windows as if to say: I'm bold -
do you love me? Just for tonight.
A One Night Stand. A dog howls & whines
at the glass door (why can't I 
be in there?) A cat yowls. A car engine
revs & races against the grain - dry
rasping carbon protest. I put the book
down - & begin my own book.
Love for the fat girl.
When will SHE get here?

In the gloom
In the shady living room
where we lived & died
& laughed & cried
& the pride of our relationship
took hold that summer
What a trip
To hold your hand
& tell the cops
you're not 16
no runaway
The wino left a little in
   the old blue desert
Cattle skulls
   the cliche' of rats
who skim the trees
in search of fat
Hip children invade the grounds
   & sleep in the wet grass
   'til the dogs rush out
I'm going South!
What can I read her
What can I read her
   on a Sunday Morning

What can I do that will
   somehow reach her
   on a Sunday Morning

I'll read her the news of
   The Indian Wars

Full of criss-calvary, blood
                 & gore

Stories to tame & charm
                 & more

On a Sunday Morning

Some wild fires
a dry quiet kiss on leaving

Like our ancestors
The Indians
We share a fear of sex
excessive lamentation for the dead
& an abiding interest in dreams & visions
EXPLOSION The mushroom
The unfolding
instant of creation (fertilisation)
   not an instant separate from breakfast
   It all flows down & out, flowing

but that instant:
   not fire & fusion (Fission) but a moment
   of jellied ice, crystal, vegetative mating
   merging in cool slime splendor
   a crushing of steel & glass & ice

   (instant in a bar: glasses clash, clink, collide)

   far-out splendor

   heat & fire are outward signs of a
   Small dry mating

event in a room
event in space
a circle
Magic rite
To call up the godhead
spirits, demons
The shaman calls:
"when radio dark night..."
We are eating each other.

The Voice of the Serpent
   dry hiss of age & steam
      & leaves of gold
         old books in ruined
         The pages break like ash

I will not disturb
I will not go

Come, he says softly

an Old man appears &
  moves in tired dance
  amid the scattered dead
gently they stir

I received an Aztec wall
                  of vision
& dissolved my room in
                  sweet derision
Closed my eyes, prepared to go
A gentle wind inform'd me so
And bathed my skin in ether glow
Drugs are a bet w/ your mind
The cigarette burn'd
        my fingertips
& dropp'd like a log
        to the rug below
My eyes took a trip
        to dig the chick
Crouch'd like a cat
        at the next window
My ears assembled music
        out of swarming streets
but my mind rebelled
             at the idiot's laughter
The rising frightful idiot laughter
Cheering an army of
             vacuum cleaners

Mouth fills w/ taste of copper.
Chinese paper. Foreign money. Old posters.
Gyro on a string, a table.
A coin spins. The faces.

There is an audience to our drama.
Magic shade mask.
Like the hero of a dream, he works for us,
in our behalf.

How close is this to a final cut?

I fall. Sweet blackness.
Strange world that waits & watches.
Ancient dread of non-existence.

If it's no problem, why mention it.
Everything spoken means that,
its opposite, & everything else.
I'm alive. I'm dying.

1st wild thrush of fear

-A phone rings
   There is a knock on the door.
      It's time to go.
The walls screamed poetry disease & sex
an inner whine like a mad machine
The Computer                   |
faces of the men               |
The wall collage                |
   reading matter                |
The Traders (dealers)      |
                                       dropped in a
                                       cave of roaches
                                       or rodents

I am a guide to the labyrinth
Come & see me
in the green hotel
Rm. 32
I will be there after 9:30 P.M.

I will show you the girl of the ghetto
I will show you the burning well
I will show you strange people
   haunted, beast-like, on the
   verge of evolution

-Fear The Lords who are
  secret among us

Leaving the phone-booth, I was
Struck by a whiff of
             the weird.
Insane old country woman
   come to nag the haunts
             of town
Hairy legs w/ open sores.

From what swamp or under-rock
   did you crawl to remind
      to leave
Androgynous, liquid, happy
Facile & vapid
Weighted w/ words
Mortgaged soul
Wandering preachers, & Delta Tramps

Box-cars of heaven
New Orleans Nile Sunset

The form is a plane above
the earth, A soldier bails
out, leaving his entrails
fluttering, billowing, Scoop'd
down, windy midwife, wrench'd
by the world from her rich
belly, my metal mother,
ripped cord, down & frozen.
Following pilot the eye of
the plane; "Great Eye of Night"
God on a windscreen, wind-
scream, wormwind

        (& hide among women
           like a toothless bird)

Burned by air
Burned bad by light
in the

                [gun shot]

O Wow
he's shot
& the scarlet news
   (hoarse mute confusion
    of the witness crowd)

Messenger in the form of a soldier.
Green wool. He stood there,
off the plane.
A new truth, too horrible to bear.
There was no record of it
anywhere in the ancient signs
or symbols.
People looked at each other,
in the mirror, their children's
Why had it come.
There was no escape from
it anywhere.
A truth too horrible to name.
Only a loose puking moan
could frame its dark interiors.
Only a few could look upon
its face w/ calm.
Most of the people fell instantly
under its dark terror.
They looked to the calm ones
but saw only a green
military coat.
None of the old Things worked.
  of Sorrow
Wilderness Angel
  of envy
Call Me

Street. Steel thrust sucking space.
Silent willful turbines, motors

City of clouds, pirates of air.

Land of rainbows & scarlet rare

We are here, parables.

Silent climbers

The breast engine mattered.
Monster in drag, a tin damsel
Shuddered & flew

Cut spent space
Crazed ace

The cake-walk.
The barn is burning
The race-track is over
Farmers run w/
buckets of water
The Horse flesh is burning
They're kicking the stalls
(panic in a horse's eye
That can spread & fill
an entire sky.)

The clouds flow by
& tell a story

about the lightning bolt & the mast
on the steeple

Some people have a hard time
describing sailors to the 

The decks are starving
Time to throw the cargo over

Now down & the high-sailing
fluttering of smiles on the air
w/ its cool night time disturbance

Tropic corridor
Tropic Treasure

What got us this far to this
mild equator

Now we need something
          & something new
when all else fails
we can whip the horse's eyes
          & make them cry
                 & sleep

France is 1st, Nogales round-up
Cross over the border-
land of eternal adolescence
quality of despair unmatched
anywhere on the perimeter
Message from the outskirts
calling us home
This is the private space of a
new order. We need saviors
To help us survive the journey.
Now who will come
Now hear this
We have started the crossing
Who knows? it may end badly

The actors are assembled;
immediately they become
I, for one, am in ecstasy
Can I convince you to smile?

No wise men now.
Each on his own
grab your daughter & run

"Oh God, she cried
I never knew what
it meant to be real
I thought all this was a joke,
I never let the horror, or
the sweetness & the dignity
penetrate my brain"

"Let me up to see
the window. Dark Riders
pass in the sunset
coming home from
raiding parties.
The taverns will be
full of laughter, wine,
& later dancing, later
dangerous knife throws.

Antonio will be there
& that whore, Blue Lady
playing cards w/ silver
decks & smiling at the night,
& full glasses held aloft
& spilled to the moon.
I'm sad, so full of sadness"
She's selling news in the market
Time in the hall
The girls of the factory
Rolling cigars
They haven't invented musak yet
So I read to them
a horror story from the Gothic age
a gruesome romance
From the LA

I have a vision of America
Seen from the air
28,000 ft. & going fast

A one-armed man in a Texas
                    parking labyrinth
A burnt tree like a giant primeval bird
               in an empty lot in Fresno
Miles & miles of hotel corridors
& elevators, filled w/ citizens

Motel Money Murder Madness
Changed the mood from glad to sadness

           play the ghost song baby
a young woman, bound silently, on a hospital table, obviously pregnant, is gutted & rifled of her empire object of oblivion Drugs sex drunkenness battle return to the water-world Sea-belly Mother of man Monstrous sleep-walking gentle swarming atomic world Anomie in social life how can we hate or love or judge in the sea-swarm world of atoms All one, one All How can we play or not play How can we put one foot before us or revolutionize or write Does the house burn? So be it. The World, a film which men devise. Smoke drifts thru these chambers Murders occur in a bedroom. Mummers chant, birds hush & coo. Will this do? Take Two.
each day is a drive thru history BRIGHT FLAGS
The great hiway of dawn
Stretching to slumber
pouring out from her greedy
palms a shore, to wander

Hesitation & doubt
Swiftly ensconced

O Viking, your women
cannot save you
out on the great ship

Time has claimed you
Coming for you
And I came to you
           for peace
And I came to you
           for gold
And I came to you
           for lies
And you gave me fever
           & wisdom
           & cries
           & sorrow
& we'll be here
           the next day
           the next day

There's a belief by the
Children of Man which states
all will be well

Search on man, clam savior
Veteran of wars incalculable
greed. Search on man, calm savior
God-speed & forgive you
morning-star, fragrant
meadow person girl


children of the caves will let their
              secret fires glow

An explosion of birds
Sun strokes the walls
An old man leaves the Casino
A young man reading pauses
on the path to the garden
Bitter winter
Fiction dogs are starving
The radio is moaning softly
          calling to the dogs
There are still a few
          animals left out in the yard

Sit up all night,
          talking smoking
Count the dead & wait
          'til morning
Will warm names & faces
          come again
Does the silver forest end?
December Isles
Hot morning chambers
   of the New Day
Idiot first to awaken (be born)
w/ shadows of new play
learned men
in Sunday best
we've had our chance to rest
to morn the passing of day
to lament the death of our
glorious member
   (she whispers secret messages
      of love in the garden
      to her friends, the bees)
The garden would be here

Mexican parachute
Blue green pink
Invented of Silk
& stretched on grass
Draped in the trees
of a Mexican Park
T-shirt boys in their
Slumbering art

-I fear that he's been
 maim'd beyond all

He hears them come &
 murmur over his corpse.

Street Pizza.

    I keep expecting a
knock on the door
well, that's what you
get for living around

a Knock? would shatter
    my dream's illusions
      deportment & composure
The struggle of a poor poet
    to stay out of the grips
  of novels & gambling
          & journalism
A quality of ignorance,
self-deception may be
necessary to the poet's
Actors must make us think
they're real
Our friends must not
make us think we're acting

They are, though, in slow

My wild words
slip into fusion
& risk losing
the solid ground

So stranger, get
wilder still

Probe the Highlands

Bourbon is a wicked brew, recalling
courage milk, refined poison
of cockroach & tree-bark, leaves
& fly-wings scraped from the
land, a thick film; menstrual
fluids no doubt add their splendor.
It is the eagle's drink.

Why do I drink?
So that I can write poetry.

Sometimes when it's all spun out
and all that is ugly recedes
into a deep sleep
There is an awakening
and all that remains is true.
As the body is ravaged
the spirit grows stronger.

Forgive me Father for I know
what I do.
I want to hear the last Poem
of the last Poet.


-What is connection?

-When 2 motions, thought
 to be infinite & mutually
 exclusive, meet in a 

-Of Time?


-Time does not exist.
 There is no time.

-Time is a straight plantation.


The diamond shone like broken glass
Upon the midnight street
And all atop the walls were wet
Their white eyes glint & sleek

Then from afar a gnome appeared
An angel flashed on furry feet
The boulevard became a river
While waiting crowds began to quiver

I was in a motel watching
Whiskey in my hand
Her breath was soft, the wind was warm
Someone in a room was born


To make works in the face
              of the void
To gain form, idenity
To raise from the herd-crowd

Public favor
public fervor

even the bitter Poet-Madman is
                 a clown
Treading the boards

Cold electric music
   Damage me
Rend my mind
   w/ your dark slumber

Cold temple of steel
   Cold minds alive
      on the strangled shore

Veterans of foreign wars
   We are the soldiers of
      Rock & Roll Wars

Whether to be a
   great cagey perfumed
   dying under the
      sweet patronage
       of Kings
& exist like luxuriant
   flowers beneath the
   emblems of their
      Strange empire
or by mere insouciant
   slap them, call their cards
spit on fate & cast hell
to flames in usury

by dying, nobly
   we could exist like
innocent trolls
   propagate our revels
& give the finger to the
   gods in our private

let's rather, maybe,
   get fucking out in
      the open, & by
   swelling, jubilantly
Magnificently, end them.

Jim Morrison,1966-1971. Wilderness.

Mr. Mojo risin' - The Doors - Ode to LA I'm a resident of a city
They've just picked me to play
the Prince of Denmark

Poor Ophelia

All those ghosts he never saw
Floating to doom
On an iron candle

Come back, brave warrior
Do the dive
On another channel

Hot buttered pool
Where's Marrakesh
Under the falls
the wild storm
where savages fell out
in late afternoon
monsters of rhythm

You've left your
to compete w/

I hope you went out
Like a child
Into the cool remnant
of a dream

The angel man
w/ Serpents competing
for his palms
& fingers
Finally claimed
This benevolent


Leaves, sodden
in silk

mad stifled

The diving board, the plunge
The pool

You were a fighter
a damask musky muse

You were the bleached
for TV afternoon

maverick of a yellow spot

Look now to where it's got

in meat heaven
w/ the cannibals
& jews

The gardener
The body, rampant, Floating

Lucky Stiff
What is this green pale stuff
You're made of

Poke holes in the goddess

Will he Stink
Carried heavenward
Thru the halls
of music

No Chance.

Requiem for a heavy
That smile
That porky satyr's
has leaped upward

into the loam

Far Arden
In that year
We had an intense visitation
                  of energy
When radio dark night existed
& assumed control & we rocked in its web
consumed by static, & stroked w/ fear
we were drawn down long from 
a deep sleep, & awaken'd
at dayfall by worried guardeners
& made to be led thru dew wet
jungle to the swift summit, o'er looking
The sea. . . .

A vast radiant beach & a cool
jewelled moon. Couples naked
race down by its quiet side & we laugh like soft mad children,
smug in the wooly cotton brains
of infancy.

The music & voices are all around us.

Choose, They croon
The ancient ones
The time has come again
Choose now, They croon
Beneath the moon
Beside an ancient lake

Enter again the sweet forest
Enter the hot dream, come w/ us
Everything is broken up
& dances

            (Mt. Music

Moonlight night
Mt. Village
Insane in the woods
       in the deep trees

Under the moon
Beneath the stars
They reel & dance
The young folk

Led to the Lake
by a King & Queen

O, I want to be there
I want us to be there
Beside the lake
Beneath the moon
Cool & swollen
dripping its hot


Frozen moment by a lake
A knife has been stolen
The death of the snake

I know the impossible sea
   when the dogs bark

I am a death bird
  Naughty night bird

Bird of prey, Bird of prey
flying high, flying high
In the summer sky

Bird of prey, Bird of prey
flying high, flying high
Gently pass on by

Bird of prey, Bird of prey
flying high, flying high
Am I going to die

Bird of prey, Bird of prey
flying high, flying high
Take me on your flight

Indians scattered on dawn's
Highway bleeding.
Ghosts crown the young child's
    fragile egg-shell mind

Underwaterfall, Underwatwefall
The girls return from summer balls
Let's steal the eye that sees us all
Tell them you came & saw & looked
into my eyes, & saw the shadow
of the guard receding
Thoughts in time & out of season
The hitchhiker stood by the side of the road
& leveled his thumb in the
calm calculus of reason

         (a car passes)

Why does my mind circle around you
Why do planets wonder what it
Would be like to be you

All your soft wild promises were words
Birds, endless in flight

Your dog is still lost in the frozen woods
or he would run to you
How can he run to you
Lunging w/ blooded sickness on the snow
He's still sniffing gates & searching
Strangers for your smell
which he remembers very well

Is there a moon in your window
Is madness laughing
Can you still run down beach
rocks bed below w/ out him?

  Winter Photography
  our love's in jeopardy
  Winter Photography
  our love's in jeopardy
Sit up all night, talking smoking
  Count the dead & wait for morning
(Will warm names & faces come again
  Does the silver forest end?)
ORANGE COUNTY SUITE Well I used to know someone fair She had orange ribbons in her hair She was such a trip She was hardly there But I loved her Just the same. There was rain in our window, The FM set was ragged But she could talk, yeah, We learned to speak And one year has gone by Such a long long road to seek it All we did was break and freak it We had all That lovers ever had We just blew it And I'm not sad Well I'm mad And I'm bad And two years have gone by Now her world was bright orange And the fire glowed And her friend had a baby And she lived with us Yeah, we broke through the window Yeah, we knocked on the door Her phone would not answer, Yeah, but she's still home Now her father has passed over & her sister is a star & her mother smokes diamonds & she sleeps out in the car Yeah, but she remembers Chicago The musicians & guitars & grass by the lake & people who laugh'd & made her poor heart ache Now we live down in the valley We work out on the farm We climb up to the mountains & everything's fine & I'm still here & you're still there & we're still around
Well I'll tell you a story of whiskey
  & mystics & men
And about the believers, & how the
  whole thing began

First there were women & children obeying
                                the moon
Then daylight brought wisdom & fever
                       & sickness too soon

You can try to remind me
  instead of the other
                      you can
You can help to insure
  That we all insecure our command

If you don't give a listen
  I won't try to tell your
                       new hand

This is it can't you see
  That we all have our end in
                     the band

And if all of the teachers & preachers
           of wealth were

We could see quite a future
for me in the literal sands

And if all of the people
  could claim to inspect
                     such regret

Well we'd have no forgiveness
  forgetfulness faithful

So I tell you
  I tell you
  I tell you
We must send away

We must try to find a new
  answer instead of
              a way

All hail the American Night

And so I say to you
The silk handkerchief was
embroidered in China or Japan
behind the steel curtain  And
no one can cross the borderline
w/ out proper credentials.
This is to say that we are all
sensate & occasionally sad
& if every partner in crime
were to incorporate promises
in his program the dance
might end & all our friends
would follow.

Who are our friends?

are they sullen & slow?  Do
they have great desire?  Or
are they one of the multitude who
walk doubting their impossible
regret.  Certainly things happen
& reoccur in continuous promise;
All of us have found a safe
niche where we can store up
riches & talk to our fellows
on the same premise of disaster

But this will not do.  No, this
will never do.   These are
continents & shores which
beseech our understanding.
Seldom have we been so slow.
Seldom have we been so far.

My only wish is to see
Far Arden again.

The truth is on his chest
The cellular excitement has
Totally inspired our magic
Veteran.  And now for an
old trip.   I'm tired of thinking.
I want the old forms to
reassert their sexual cool.
My mind is just - you know.
And this morning before I sign
off I would like to tell you
about Texas Radio & the Big Beat.
It moves into the perimeter of
your sacred sincere & dedicated
Smile like a calm surviver
of the psychic war.  He was
no general for he was not old.
He was no private for he
could not be sold.

He was only a man & his
dedication extended to the last
degree.  Poor pretentious soldier,
come home.  The dark Los Angeles
evening is steaming the Church
that we attended & I miss
my boy.  Stupid in gree -y
What the color green?  When
I watch the T.V. & I see
helicopters swirling their
brutal & bountiful sensation
over the fields & the comic walls
I can only smile & fix a meal
& think about the child who
will one day own you.

In conclusion, darling, let
me repeat:  your home is still
here, inviolate & certain
and I open the wide smile of
my remembrance.  This to you
on the anniversary of our first
night.  I know you love me
to talk this way.  I hope
no one sees this message
written in the calm lonely
far out languid summer afternoon
W/ my total love

The hour of the wolf
has now ended. Cocks
crow. The world is built
up again, struggling in

The child gives in to night-
Mare, while the grown
Man fears his fear.

I must leave this island,
Struggling to be born
from blackness.

Fear the good deep dark
American Night.
Blessed is Night.

The flood has subsided
The movie panic & the
chauffeured drive
Thru the suburbs

Wild folks in weird dress
by the side of the hiway

Some of the men wear
Tunics or short skirts.
The women posture on
Their porches in mock-
classical pose.

The driver aims the car
& it guides itself. Tunnels
click by overhead.

Love the deep green gloom
of American Night.

Love frightened corners,
Thrill to the wood-vine.

So much of it good
& so much quantity.

The Major's boots are where
he left them.


Period prints - white
& black boxing match.

A Negro Dance

The principal of the school holds his nose.
"A dead cow is in there. I wonder
why they haven't sent someone to
remove it?"

A vulture streams by,
& another. The white tip
of his claw-like red beak
looks white, like meat.
Swift sad languorous

The cat drinks little cat
laps from a sick
Turquoise swimming pool.

(Insane couplings out in the night.)

America, I am hook'd to your
Cold white neon bosom, & suck
snake-like thru the dawn, I
am drawn back home
your son in exile
in the land of Awakening
What dreams possessed you
To merge in the morning?

"I been in a daze"

A spot, a reef, behind
the nursery door, off
the main bedroom-
"Those are the major's."

The bed looms like a white
funeral butterfly barge
at one end of the room,
hung w/ nets & sails.

"We're outlaws."

"What church is that?"
:Church of God."
while bandana, white tambourine

-Walking on the Water-

"In traditional style, we'll
give them a good political
back-siding" - (laughter)


a frog in the road
children in church
lying like death
on the back seat

A whore-house.
Lord John & Lady Anne's.
Red-blooded Blue-blooded.
Queen's bosom.Is it The Princess?

Golden-blood, like me, he said,
folding the bill again neatly,
the Queen's ear - a naked
cock stuck in her ass.

Ha Ha Ha Ha.

You're no more innocent
than a turkey vulture

A cannon.

The Negro slaves & the English
killed the Indians, & mixed
w/ the Spanish, who were soon
forced out.

Yes, big battles

Boom Boom
The velvet fur of religion
The polish of knife handle & coin
The universe of organic gears
or microscope mechanical
embryo metal doll
The night is a steel machine
grinding its slow stained wheels
The brain is filled w/ clocks, & drills
& water down drains
Knife-handle, thick blood
like the coin & cloth
they rub & the skin they love
to touch

the graveyard, the tombstone,
the gloomstone & runestone
The sand & the moon, mating
deep in the Western night
waiting for the escape
of one of our gang
The hangman's noose is a
silver sluice bait
come-on man
your meat is hanging
on the wing of the raven
man's bird, poet's soul

the thin rustle of weeds
the voice comes from faraway
inside, awaiting its birth
in a cool room, on tendril bone
The insane free chummy cackle
of infants in a ballroom, of a
family of friends around
a table, laden w/ feast-food
soft guilty female laughter
the bar-room, the men's room
people assemble to establish
armies & find their foe
& fight
   Clustered in watchful terror
by vine-growth, the hollow bush
   dry cancerous wells
We awoke before dawn, slipped
   into the canyon

Noon schoolyard screamed
   w/ play, the lunch hour ending
ropes & balls slapped hard at
   cement sand, the female land
was bright, all swelling to degree
   most comfortless & guarding

A record noise shot out
   & stunned the earth. The music
had been bolted w/ new sound.
   Run, run the end of repose
an anthem has churned
   the bad guys are winning.

Silver shaken in the gloom
I left her

Trees waste & sway forever

Marble porch & sylvan frieze
Down on her knees

She begs the spider-king to wed her
Slides into bed

He turns her over

There is a leather pouch
that's full of silver

It spills like water

She left
And took the coins I gave her

As to the drowning man
hoarse whisper
invokes, on the edge,
an arroyo
Sangre de Christo

Violence in a time of plenty

There is one deaf witness
on the bank, the shore
leaning in finery against
a ruined wall
as Jesus did. Red livid lips,
pale flesh withdrawn from
ragged dress, pit of the past
& screens unveiled in the
scarred chalk wall

When, often, one is not deluged
by rain, 3 drops suffice
The war is over there
I am neither doctor nor saint
Christ or soldier
Now, friends, don't look at me
sadly ranting like some
incomprehensible child
I know by my breath of what
I speak, & what I've seen
needs telling.

Please, freeze!
Danger near.
A message has started its path
to the heart of the brain
A thin signal is on its way
An arrow of hope, predicting rain
A death-rod bearing pain
I will not come again
I will not come again
into the swirl
The bitter wine-soaked
stallion eats the seed,
all labor is a lie;
no vice is kindled in
these loins to melt
or vie w/ any strong
particulating smile.
Leave sundry stones alive.

Now that you have gone
all alone
the desert to explore
& left me here alone

the calmness of the town
where a girl in black
gets in a car
& searches numbly
for her keys;

Now that you have gone
or strayed away-

I sit, & listen to the hiss
of traffic & invoke
into this burned & gutted
room some ghost, some
vague resemblance of a time

Off-on, on and off,
like one long sick
electric dream.
This state is confused
state. Out there her life
like warm connectors,
plug into her soul
From every side & melt
her form for me.

But I deserve this,
Greatest cannibal of all.
Some tired future.
Let me sleep.
Get on w/ the disease.
for all the world lies
hushed & fallen
green ships dangle
on the surface of
Ocean, & sky-birds
glide smugly among
the planes
Gaunt crippled houses
Strangle the cliffs
In the East, in the cities
a hum of life
begins, now come

Of the Great Insane
American Night
We sang
sending our gift
to its vast promise

Pilots are a problem
The rain & hungry sea
greedy for steel

Say a soft American Prayer
A quiet animal sigh
for the strong plane

We rode on opium tires
from the colossal
airport chess game
at dawn, new from glass
in the broken night

landed then in quiet
fog, beside the times
out of this strange river

Then gladly thru
a wasted morning
happy to be alive to
signs of life
a dog,
a school girl
are we in Harlem?


accept this ancient
which has travelled
far to greet
From the East
w/ the sun

Call out to him
From the mountain
high, from high

as the mind
& wends its way
to freedom

grant us one more day
& hour
the hero of this dream
who heals & guides us

Forgive me, Blacks
you who unite
as I fear & gently
fall on darkness
Earth Air Fire Water
Mother Father Sons & Daughters
Airplane in the starry night
First fright
Forest follow free
I love thee
watch how I love thee

The Politics of ecstasy are real
Can't you feel them working
thru you
Turning night into day
Mixing sun w/ the sea.

Ledger domain
Wilderness pain
cruel swimming ambience
sweet swimming fish hook smile
I love you all the while
even w/ the little child
by the hand
& squeeze

You're learning

Keep off the walk
listen to the children talk

Cobra sun / Fever smile
-No man kill me

"Who is this insane messenger?"

In times like these we need
men around us who can
see clearly & speak the truth.

Out of breath

   Raving witness

-Who comes?
Help! Help! Save us!
Save us!
We're dying, fella, do something.
Get us out of this!
Save us!
I'm dying.
What have we done now!
We've done it, fella, we've committed the

This is the end of us, fella.
I love you fella.
I love you fells.
I love you cause you're you.

But you've got to help us.
What have we done, fella,
What have we done now?

Where are my dreamers
Today & tonight
Where are my dancers
leaping madly
whirling & screaming

Where are my women
quietly dreaming
caught like angels
on the dark porch
of a velvet ranch
dance dance dance dance
         dance dance dance

 It was the greatest night of my life
Although I still had not found a wife
I had my friends right there beside me

Indians scattered on dawn's highway bleeding
Ghosts crown the young child's fragile eggshell mind

We scaled the wall
We tripped thru the graveyard
Ancient shapes were all around us
No music but the wet grass
felt fresh beside the fog

Two made love in a silent spot
one chased a rabbit into the dark
A girl got drunk & made the dead
And I gave empty sermons to my head

Cemetery cool & quiet
Hate to leave
your sacred lay
Dread the milky coming of the day

In this full-throated
Sex'd cry
we must try again
to speak of the ununited
miles of sleep around
Bumbling thru slumber
Blind numbers

In a tiled room
We sit & brood
Refuse to move
The guards refuse

and in the last place
and in the last sweet breath
& in smoke of sine-wise crab

and in stars of plenty, stars of greed
in the written book & majesties
in fulfillment on a cliff
on the inside of butter
on smooth backs & camels
in the open vessel
in the vein
in lives untold
   who witnessed everything

For those people who died
for Nirvana
for the heavenly creed
for you, for me

These lines are written
   to convey the message
To ignore the warning
To spree upward into
Tantalizing voices
To visit under-seas
Things more horrible
            than war
Things out of the tales
Great beasts
Suffering extinction

All these monsters
Words forsaken, falling
by all Hell
loose walls, forgotten
tumbling down into
Night / Fast friends
fellows of the one true cross
earthly lovers crash
sweet sorrow blackness
on the spilled roadside
down, into fire
silence, cry

Argue w/ breath
while I cry

it must come
like dream
from the center
where liquor's

it must come
like the dawn
soft haste
No hurry
hairs curl

The phone
We create the dawn

I fell on the earth
           & raped the snow
I got married to life
           & breathed w/ my marrow
I saw young dancers
I am meat & need fuel
Need the whorey glimmer of tears
in women, all ages
Laughter sandwich, fuel
   for the lunch of meat minds
Now damn you, dance
Now dance
or die sleek & fat in your
reeking seats, still
buckled for flight

If the writer can write, &
   the farmer can sow
Then all miracles concur,
   appear, & start happening
If the children eat, if there
   time of crying was Mid-

The earth needs them
soft dogs on the snow
Nestled in Spring
When sun makes wine
& blood dances dangerous
   in the veins or vine

To have just come wondering
if the world is real is
sick to see the shape she's
made of.  What wandering
lunacy have we soft created?

Certain no one meant it
sure someone started
Where is he?
Where is he or it when
      we need her?
Where are you?
In a flower?

To have just been born
      for beauty & see sadness
What is this frail sickness?

Round-up,  Roundolay,  Rhonda,
Red Rich roll ruse rune
rake roan ran regard
if you know what I mean.
This is concrete imagery Vermont
The mouth leads this way
I that way
No good faster the hand too slow
To exist in time we die construct
prisms in a void
The truth  faster  These hang-ups
hold-ups  shooting the republic
The president's dream behind
The throne
four-score fast fever the clinic
the wisdom syphilis doctor nurse
Indians  americans  Atlantis
Save us  guide us  in time of need
prayer to the mind cell body
prayer to center of man  prayer
to evening's last whisper  as the
hand silently glides into peaceful
thorns  stones  storms
I await your coming
w/ negligence  Speak to me!
don't leave me here alone  Torture
clinic chamber  The stale bars  his mother
who will help a match a cigarette
I'm going. God? What is your name

There must be some way to define
stop happening space shades
postures poses snapshots  The
World behind the word & all
utterance  Can't now
coming for us  soon leave  all over
The Republic is a big cross in a
big cross the nation  The world on fire
Taxi from Africa  The Grand Hotel
He was drunk  a big party last
night there. Pastures fields
skunks snake invisible night birds
night hawks  summer disasters
out of doors  listen to the lions
roar in the empty fields
These are forgotten
lands  Speak confidently of
the forest  the end  the joke
is on me  most certainly
There must be someone today who
knows  they do  but they can't
Tell you  like feeding a child
Wine  like sniffing cortex
blue babies lists  real estate
cleaning offices  word-vomit
mind soup  crawling lice  book bonds.

Feeling streams lead to losers
back going back in all directions
sleeping these insane hours
I'll never wake up in a good mood
again.  I'm sick of these
stinking boots.  Stories of animals
in the woods  not stupid  but
like indians peeping out  there
little eyes in the night  I know
the forest & the evil moon tide.
"we sure look funny don't we fella?"
Plu-perfect.  Forgotten.  Songs
are good streams for a laugh.
The mind bird was a good fella
Who minded labyrinths & lived
in a well  He knew Jesus
Knew Newman  Knew me &
Morganfield  I hope you can
understand these last parables
were hope (less) sure  if you can
regard them as anything beyond
matter  Surely not more than
Twice-fold folk follow & loose-
tree  Now here's the run  rune

Rib-bait squalor the women of the
quarter yawned & meandered
swimming dust tide for food
scraps to child feed  No noon
for misses  The Church called bells
inhabitants of the well  come to hell
come to the bell  funeral jive
Negroes plenty, fluttering their
dark smiles.  Mindless lepers -
con-men  The movie is popular
This season  in all the hotels
rich tourists from the continent
shore up & hold a story seance
nightly  The birds tell & they
Know all  Telephones crooks
& castanets  The lines are wired
Listen  hear those voices & all
This long distance from the other half
I love to hear ya ramble boy
missionary stallion  One day
The devil arrived only no one tell
or you'll ruin the outcome. He
walked to the pulpit & saved
The city while certainly scoring
Someone's female daughter.
When his cloak was hoisted
The snake was seen & we all
slipped back to lethargy.

Buildings glided no interruptions.

Constructions everywhere.  Our
own house was solid astrology
Tiny flutes won their starlings
sunrise.  And in the estuary
side-traps stopped our dinner
He came home w/ bags of meat
& sacks of flour & the bread
rose & the family flourished.
Those who Race toward Death
Those who wait
Those who worry
The Endless quest a vigil
of watchtowers and fortresses
against the sea and time.
Have they won? Perhaps.
They still stand and in
their silent rooms still wander 
the souls of the dead.
who keep their watch on the living.
Soon enough we shall join them.
Soon enough we shall walk
the walls of time. We shall
miss nothing
except each other.

Fence my sacred fire
I want. To be simple, black & clean
A dim nothingness
The sea is green
like the child's version of a
Christmas dream
w/ no

Why the desire for death.

A clean paper or pure
   white wall. One false
line, a scratch, a mistake.
Unerasable. So obscure
by adding million other
   tracings, blend it,
cover over.

But the original scratch
remains, written in
gold blood, shining.

Desire for a Perfect Life

As I look back
   over my life
   I am struck by post
Ruined Snap shots

   faded posters
Of a time, I can't recall

I am a Scot, or so
I'm told. Really
the heir of Mystery

Snake in the Glen

The child of a
   Military family...

I rebelled against church
   after phases of

I curried favor in school
   & attack'd the teachers

      I was given a
      desk in the corner

      I was a fool
      The smartest kid
         in class

Walks in D.C. in
         Negro streets. The library
         & book stores. Orange
         brick in warm sun.
         The books & poets magic

Then sex gives greater stimulation
Than you've ever known &
all peace & books lose their
charm & you are thrown
back on the eye of vision

History of Rock
   coinciding w/ my

Came to LA to
   Film School

Venice Summer

Drug Visions

Roof top songs

early struggles &

Thanks to the girls
who fed me.

Making Records

Elvis had sex-wise
mature voice at 19.

Mine still retains the
nasal whine of a
repressed adolescent
   minor squeaks & furies
An interesting singer
at best - a scream
or a sick croon. Nothing


fear of Plane 

And night was what Night
      should be
A girl, a bottle, & blessed sleep

I have ploughed
My seed thru the heart
of the nation.
   Injected a germ in the psychic blood vein.

Now I embrace the poetry
of business & become - for
a time - a "Prince of Industry"

A natural leader, a poet,
            a Shaman, w/ the
soul of a clown.

What am I doing
   in the Bull Ring
Every public figure
   running for Leader

Spectators at the Tomb
-riot watchers

Fear of Eyes

Being drunk is a good disguise.

I drink so I
can talk to assholes.
This includes me.

The horror of business

The Problem of Money
   do I deserve it?

The Meeting
Rid of Managers & agents

After 4 yrs. I'm left w/ a
   mind like a fuzzy hammer

regret for wasted nights
   & wasted years
I pissed it all away
   American Music

End w/ fond good-bye
& plans for future
-Not an actor

Which of my cellves
         will be remember'd

Good-bye America
   I loved you

         Money from home
         good luck
         stay out of trouble