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JAMES DOUGLAS MORRISON




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Y ahi unos libros con sus poemas:


AMERICAN PRAYER---



Awake Ghost Song
Is everybody in?
Is everybody in?
Is everybody in?
The ceremony is about to begin.

WAKE UP!

You can't remember where it was
had this dream stopped?

Awake

Shake dreams from your hair
My pretty child, my sweet one.
Choose the day and choose the sign of your day
The day's divinity
First thing you see.

A vast radiant beach in a cool jeweled moon
Couples naked race down by it's quiet side
And we laugh like soft, mad children
Smug in the wooly cotton brains of infancy
The music and 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 with us
Everything is broken up and dances.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dawn's Highway
Indians scattered on dawn's highway bleeding
Ghosts crowd the young child's fragile eggshell mind.
Me and my -ah- mother and father - and a
grandmother and a grandfather - were driving through
the desert, at dawn, and a truck load of Indian
workers had either hit another car, or just - I don't
know what happened - but there were Indians scattered
all over the highway, bleeding to death.

So the car pulls up and stops. That was the first time
I tasted fear. I musta' been about four - like a child is
like a flower, his head is just floating in the
breeze, man.
The reaction I get now thinking about it, looking
back - is that the souls of the ghosts of those dead
Indians...maybe one or two of 'em...were just
running around freaking out, and just leaped into my
soul. And they're still in there.

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

Blood in the streets in the town of New Haven
Blood stains the roofs and the palm trees of Venice
Blood in my love in the terrible summer
Bloody red sun of Phantastic L.A.

Blood screams her brain as they chop off her fingers
Blood will be born in the birth if a nation
Blood is the rose of mysterious union
Blood on the rise, it's following me.

Indian, Indian what did you die for?
Indian says, nothing at all.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Newborn Awakening
Gently they stir, gently rise
The dead are newborn awakening
With ravaged limbs and wet souls
Gently they sigh in rapt funeral amazement
Who called these dead to dance?
Was it the young woman learning to play the ghost song on her baby grand?
Was it the wilderness children?
Was it the ghost god himself, stuttering, cheering, chatting blindly?
I called you up to anoint the earth
I called you to announce sadness falling like burned skin
I called you to wish you well
To glory in self like a new monster
And now I call you to pray


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
To Come of Age
A military station in the desert.
Can we resolve the past
Lurking jaws, joints of time?
The Base
To come of age in a dry place
Holes and caves.

My friend drove and hour each day from the mountains
The bus gives you a hard-on with books in your lap
Someone shot the bird in the afternoon dance show
They gave out free records to the best couple
Spades dance best, from the hip.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Black Polished Chrome (Latino Chrome.)
The music was new
black polished chrome
And came over the summer
like liquid night.
The DJ's took pills to stay awake
and play for seven days
They went to the studio
And someone knew him
Someone knew the TV showman
He came to our homeroom party
and played records
And when he left in the hot noon sun
and walked to his car
We saw the chooks had written
F-U-C-K on his windshield
He wiped it off with a rag
and smiling cooly drove away
He's rich. Got a big car.
My gang will get you
Scenes of rape in the arroyo
Seduction in cars, abandoned buildings
Fights at the food stand
The dust
the shoes
Open shirts and raised collars
Bright sculptured hair.

Hey man, you want girls, pills, grass? C'mon...
I show you good time.
This place has everything. C'mon...
I show you.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Angels and Sailors
Angels and sailors
rich girls
backyard fences
tents

Dreams watching each other narrowly
soft luxuriant cars
Girls in garages, stripped
out to get liquor and clothes
half gallons of wine and six-packs of beer
Jumped, humped, born to suffer
made to undress in the wilderness.


I will never treat you mean
Never start no kind of scene
I'll tell you every place and person that I've been.
Always a playground instructor, never a killer
Always a bridesmaid on the verge of fame or over
He manouvered two girls into his hotel room
One a friend, the other, the young one, a newer stranger
Vaguely Mexican or Puerto Rican
Poor boys thighs and buttock scarred by a father's belt
She's trying to rie
Story of her boyfriend, of teenage stoned death games
Handsome lad, dead in a car
Confusion
No connections
Come 'ere
I love you
Peace on earth
Will you die for me?
Eat me
This way
The end


I'll always be true
Never go out, sneaking out on you, babe
If you'll only show me Far Arden again.
I'm surprised you could get it up
He whips her lightly, sardonically, with belt
Haven't I been through enough? she asks
Now dressed and leaving
The Spanish girl begins to bleed
She says her period
It's Catholic heaven
I have an ancient Indian crucifix around my neck
My chest is hard and brown
Lying on stained, wretched sheets with a bleeding virgin
We could plan a murder
Or start a religion.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Stoned Immaculate
I'll tell you this...
No eternal reward will forgive us now
For wasting the dawn.
Back in those days everything was simpler and more confused
One summer night, going to the pier
I ran into two young girls
The blonde one was called Freedom
The dark one, Enterprise
We talked and they told me this story
Now listen to this...
I'll tell you about Texas radio and the big beat
Soft driven, slow and mad
Like some new language
Reaching your head with the cold, sudden fury of a divine messenger
Let me tell you about heartache and the loss of god
Wandering, wandering in hopless night
Out here in the perimeter there are no stars


Out here we is stoned
Immaculate.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Movie
The movie will begin in five moments
The mindless voice announced
All those unseated will await the next show.
We filed slowly, languidly into the hall
The auditorium was vast and silent
As we seated and were darkened, the voice continued.


The program for this evening is not new
You've seen this entertainment through and through
You've seen your birth your life and death
you might recall all of the rest
Did you have a good world when you died?
Enough to base a movie on?.

I'm getting out of here
Where are you going?
To the other side of morning
Please don't chase the clouds, pagodas


Her cunt gripped him like a warm, friendly hand.

It's alright, all your friends are here
When can I meet them?
After you've eaten
I'm not hungry
Uh, we meant beaten


Silver stream, silvery scream
Oooooh, impossible concentration.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Curses, Invocations
Curses, Invocations
Weird bate-headed mongrels
I keep expecting one of you to rise
Large buxom obese queen
Garden hogs and cunt veterans
Quaint cabbage saints
Shit hoarders and individualists
Drag strip officials
Tight lipped losers and
Lustful fuck salesman
My militant dandies
All strange orders of monsters
Hot on the tail of the woodvine
We welcome you to our procession
Here come the Comedians
look at them smile
Watch them dance an Indian mile
Look at them gesture
How aplomb
So to gesture everyone
Words dissemble
Words be quick
Words resemble walking sticks
Plant them they will grow
Watch them waver so
I'll always be a word man
Better then a bird man

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
American Night
All hail the American night!

What was that?
I don't know
Sounds like guns...thunder.
(Roadhouse Blues cuts in here with Jim doing a little audience participation section at the end.)

...Alright! Alright! Alright!
Hey, listen! Listen! Listen, man! listen, man!
I don't know how many you people believe in astrology...

Yeah, that's right...that's right, baby, I...I am a
Sagittarius
The most philosophical of all the signs
But anyway, I don't believe in it
I think it's a bunch of bullshit, myself
But I tell you this, man, I tell you this
I don't know what's gonna happen, man, but I wanna have
my kicks before the whole shithouse goes up in flames
Alright!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The World on Fire
The World on Fire...Taxi from Africa...The Grand Hotel...
He was drunk a big party last night 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 stinky boots

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Lament
Lament for my cock
Sore and crucified
I seek to know you
Aquiring soulful wisdom
You can open walls of mystery
Stripshow
How to aquire death in the morning show
TV death which the child absorbs
Deathwell mystery which makes me write
Slow train, the death of my cock gives life

Forgive the poor old people who gave us entry
Taught us god in the child's praye in the night

Guitar player
Ancient wise satyr
Sing your ode to my cock

Caress it's lament
Stiffen and guide us, we frozen
Lost cells
The knowledge of cancer
To speak to the heart
And give the great gift
Words Power Trance

this stable friend and the beast of his zoo
Wild haired chicks
Women flowering in their summit
Monsters of skin
Each color connects
to create the boat
which rocks the race
Could any hell be more horrible
than now
and real?

I pressed her thigh and death smiled

Death, old friend
Death and my cock are the world
I can forgive my injuries in the name of
Wisdom Luxury Romance

Sentence upon sentence
Words are the healing lament
For the death of my cock's spirit
Has no meaning in the soft fire
Words got me the wound and will get me well
I you believe it

All join now and lament the death of my cock
A tounge of knowledge in the feathered night
Boys get crazy in the head and suffer
I sacrifice my cock on the alter of silence

The Hitchhiker
Thoughts in time and out of season
The Hitchhiker
Stood by the side of the road
And leveled his thumb
In the calm calculus of reason
Hi. How you doin'? I just got back into town L.A.
I was out on the desert for awhile


Riders on the storm

Yeah. In the middle of it

Riders on the storm

Right...

Into this world we're born

Hey, listen, man, I really got a problem

Into this world we're thrown

When I was out on the desert, ya know

Like a dog without a bone
An actor out on loan

I don't know how to tell you

Riders on the storm

but, ah, I killed somebody

There's a killer on the road

No...

His brain is squirming like a toad

It's no big deal, ya know
I don't think anybody will find out about it, but...

take a long holiday

just, ah...

Let your children play

this guy gave me a ride, and ah...

If you give this man a ride

started giving me a lot of trouble

Sweet family will die

and I just couldn't take it, ya know

Killer on the road

And I wasted him

Yeah


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
An American Prayer
Do you know the warm progress
under the stars?
Do you know we exist?
Have you forgotten the keys
to the Kingdom
Have you been born yet
and are you alive?
Let's reinvent the gods, all the myths
of the ages
Celebrate symbols from deep elder forests
[Have you forgotten the lessons
of the ancient war]
We need great golden copulations
The fathers are cackling in trees
of the forest
our mother is dead in the sea
Do you know we are being led to
slaughters by placid admirals
And that fat slow generals are getting
obscene on young blood
Do you know we are ruled by TV
The moon is a dry blood beast
Guerrilla bands are rolling numbers
in the next block of green vine
amassing for warfare on innocent
herdsmen who are just dying
O great creator of being
grant us one more hour to
perform our art
and perfect our lives
The moths and atheists are doubly divine
and dying
We live, we die
and death not ends it
Journey we more into the
Nightmare
Cling to life
Our passion'd flower
Cling to cunts and cocks
of despair
We got our final vision
by clap
Columbus' groin got
filled with green death
(I touched her thigh
and death smiled)
We have assembled inside this ancient
and insane theatre
To propogate our lust for life
and flee the swarming wisdom
of the streets
The barns are stormed
The windows kept
And only one of all the rest
To dance and save us
With divine mockery
of words
Music inflames temperament
(When the true King's murderers
are allowed to run free
a thousand Magicians arise
in the land)
Where are the feasts we were promised
Where is the wine
The New Wine
(dying on the vine)
resident mockery
give us an hour for magic
We of the purple glove
We of the starling flight
and velvet hour
We of arabic pleasure's breed
We of sundome and the night
Give us a creed
To believe
A Night of lust
Give us trust in
The Night
Give of color
Hundred hues
a rich mandala
For me and you
And for your silky
pillowed house
A head, wisdom
And a bed
Troubled decree
Resident mockery
has claimed thee
We used to believe
In the good old days
We still receive in
little ways
The Things of Kindness
An unsporting brow
Forget and allow
Did you know freedom exists
in a school book
Did you know madmen are
roaming our prison
within a jail, within a gaol
within a white free protestant
maelstrom
We're perched headlong
on the edge of boredom
We're trying for something
That's already found us.

We can invent a Kingdom of our own
grand purple thrones, those chairs of lust
and love we must, in beds or rust
Steel doors lock in prosoner's screams
amd musak, AM, rocks their dreams
No black men's pride to hoist the beams
while mocking angels sift what seems
To be a collage of magazine dust
Scratched on foreheads of walls of trust
This is just jail for those who must
get up in the morning and fight for such
unusable standards
while weeping maidens
show-off penury and pout
ravings for a mad
staff.

Wow, I'm sick of doubt
Live in the light of certain
South
Cruel bindings.
The servants have the power
dog-men and their mean women
pulling poor blankets over
our sailors.

(And where were you in our lean hour)
Milking your moustache
or grinding a flower?

I'm sick of these dour faces
Staring at me from the TV
Tower, I want roses in
my garden bower; dig?
Royal babies, rubies
must now replace aborted
Strangers in the mud
These mutants, blood-meal
for the plant that's plowed.

They are waiting to take us into
the severed garden.
Do you know how pale and wanton thrillful
comes death on a strange hour
unannounced, unplanned for
like a scaring over-friendly guest you've
brought to bed.
Death makes angels of us all
and gives us wings
where we had shoulders
smooth as raven's
claws.

No more money, no more fancy dress
This other kingdom seems by far the best
until it's other jaw reveals incest
and loose obedience to a vegetable law.
I will not go
Prefer a Feast of Friends
To the Giant Family.



THE CELEBRATION OF THE LIZARD---



Lions in the street and roaming
Dogs in heat, rabid, foaming
A beast caged in the heart of a city
The body of his mother
Rotting in the summer ground.
He fled the town.
He went down South and crossed the border
Left the chaos and disorder
Back there over his shoulder.

One morning he awoke in a green hotel
With a strange creature groaning beside him.
Sweat oozed from its shiny skin.

Is everybody in?
The ceremony is about to begin.

Wake up!
You can't remember where it was.
Had this dream stopped?

The snake was pale gold
Glazed & shrunken.
We were afraid to touch it.
The sheets were hot dead prisons.

Now, run to the mirror in the bathroom,
Look!
I can't live thru each slow century of her moving.
I let my cheek slide down
The cool smooth tile
Feel the good cold stinging blood
The smooth hissing snakes of rain...

Once I had a little game
I liked to crawl back into my brain
I think you know the game I mean
I mean the game called 'go insane'

Now you should try this little game
Just close your eyes forget your name
Forget the world, forget the people
And we'll erect a different steeple.

This little game is fun to do.
Just close your eyes, no way to lose.
And I'm right thre, I'm going too.
Release control, we're breaking through.

Way back deep into the brain
Back where there's never any pain.
And the rain falls gently on the town.
And in the labyrinth of streams
Beneath, the quiet unearthly presence of
Nervous hill dwellers in the gentle hill around,
Reptiles abounding
Fossils, caves, cool air heights.

Each house repeats a mold
Windows rolled
Beast car locked in against morning.
All now sleeping
Rugs silent, mirrors vacant,
Dust blind under the beds of lawful couples
Wound in sheets.
And daughters, smug
With semen eyes in their nipples

Wait
There's been a slaughter here.

(Don't stop to speak or look around
Your gloves & fan are on the ground
We're getting out of town
We're going on the run
And you're the one I want to come)

Not to touch the earth
Not to see the sun
Nothing left to do, but
Run, run, run
Let's run

House upon the hill
Moon is lying still
Shadows of the trees
Witnessing the wild breeze
C'mon baby run with me
Let's run

Run with me
Run with me
Run with me
Let's run

The mansion is warm, at the top of the hill
Rich are the rooms and the comforts there
Red are the arms of luxuriant chairs
And you won't know a thing till you get inside

Dead president's corpse in the driver's car
The engine runs on glue and tar
C'mon along, we're not going very far
To the East to meet the Czar.

Some outlaws lived by the side of a lake
The minister's daughter's in love with the snake
Who lives in a well by the side of the road
Wake up, girl! We're almost home

Sun, sun, sun
Burn, burn, burn
Soon, soon, soon
Moon, moon, moon,
I will get you
Soon!
Soon!
Soon!

Let the carnival bells ring
Let the serpent sing
Let everything

We came down
The rivers & highways
We came down from
Forests & falls

We came down from
Carson & Springfield
We came down from
Phoenix enthralled
& I can tell you
The names of the Kindom
I can tell you
The things that you know
Listening for a fistful of silence
Climbing valleys into the shade

'I am the Lizard King
I can do anything
I can make the earth stop in its tracks
I made the blue cars go away

For seven years I dwelt
In the loose palace of exile,
Playing strange games
With the girls of the island.

Now I have come again
To the land of the fair, & the strong, & the wise.

Brothers & sisters of the pale forest
O children of Night
Who among you will run with the hunt?

Now Night arrives with her purple legion.
Retire now to your tents & to your dreams.
Tomorrow we enter the town of my birth.
I want to be ready.'



NEW CREATURES---



I
Snakeskin jacket
Indian eyes
Brilliant hair
He moves in disturbed
Nile Insect
Air

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

II
You parade thru the soft summer
We watch your eager rifle decay
Your wilderness
Your teeming emptiness
Pale forests on verge of light
decline.
More of your miracles
More of your magic arms

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

III
Bitter grazing in sick pastures
Animal sadness & the daybed
Whipping.
Iron curtains pried open.
The elaborate sun implies
dust, knives, voices.
Call out of the Wilderness
Call out of fever, receiving
the wet dreams of an Aztec King.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

IV
The banks are high & overgrown
rich w/ warm green danger.
Unlock the canals.
Punish our sister's sweet playmate distress.
Do you want us that way w/ the rest?
Do you adore us?
When you return will you still want to play w/ us?


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

V
Fall down.
Strange gods arrive in fast enemy poses.
Their shirts are soft marrying cloth and hair together.
All along their arms ornaments conceal veins bluer that blood pretending welcome.
Soft lizard eyes connect.
Their soft drained insect cries erect new fear, where fears reign.
The rustling of sex against their skin.
The wind withdraws all sound.
Stamp your witness on the punished ground.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

VI
Wounds, stags, & arrows
Hooded flashing legs plunge near the tranquil women.
Startling obedience from the pool people.
Astonishing caves to plunder.
Loose, nerveless ballets of looting.
Boys are running.
Girls are screaming, falling.
The air is thick w/ smoke.
Dead crackling wires dance pools of sea blood.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

VII
Lizard woman
w/ your insect eyes
w/ your wild surprise.
Warm daughter of silence.
Venom.
Turn your back w/ a slither of moaning wisdom.
The unblinking blind eyes behind walls new histories rise
and wake growling & whining the weird dawn of dreams.
Dogs lie sleeping.
The wolf howls.
A creature lives out the war.
A forest.
A rustle of cut words, choking
river.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

VIII
The snake, the lizard, the insect eye
the huntsman's green obedience.
Quick, in raw time, serving stealth & slumber,
grinding warm forests into restless lumber.
Now for the valley.
Now for the syrup hair.
Stabbing the eyes, widening skies
behind the skull bone.
Swift end of hunting.
Hug round the swollen torn breast & red-stained throat.
The hounds gloat.
Take her home.
Carry our sister's body, back
to the boat.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A pair of Wings
Crash
High winds of Karma
Sirens

Laughter & young voices
in the mts.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Saints
the Negro, Africa
Tattoo
eyes like time


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Build temporary habitations, games
& chambers, play there, hide.
First man stood, shifting stance
while germs of sight
unfurl'd Flags in his skull

and quickening, hair, nails, skin
turned slowly, whirl'd, in
the warm aquarium, warm
wheel turning.

Cave fish, eels, & gray salamanders
turn in their night career of sleep.

The idea of vision escapes
the animal worm whose earth
is an ocean, whose eyes is its body.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The theory is that birth is prompted
by the child's desire to leave the womb.
But in the photograph an unborn horse's
neck strains inward w/ legs scooped out.
From this everything follows:

Swallow milk at the breast
until there's no milk.

Squeeze wealth at the rim
until tile pools claim it.

He swallows seed, his pride
until w/ pale mouth legs

she sucks the root, dreading
world to devour child.

Doesn't the ground swallow me
when I die, or the sea
if I die at sea?

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The City. Hive, Web, or severed
insect mound. All citizens heirs
of the same royal parent.
The caged beast, the holy center,
a garden in the midst of the city.


"See Naples & die."
Jump ship. Rats, sailors
& death.
So many wild pigeons.
Animals ripe w/ new diseases.
"There is only one disease
and I am its catalyst,"
cried doomed pride of the carrier.

Fighting, dancing, gambling,
bars, cinemas thrive
in the avid summer.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Savage destiny
Naked girl, seen from behind,

on a natural road

Friends
explore the labyrinth

- Movie
young woman left on the desert

A city gone mad w/ fever

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sister of the unicorn, dance
Sisters & brothers of Pyramid
Dance
Mangled hands
Tales of the Old Days
Discovery of the Sacred Pool
changes
Mute-handed stillness baby cry

The wild dog
The sacred beast

Find her!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He goes to see the girl
of the ghetto
Dark savage streets.
A hut, lighted by candle.
She is magician
Female prophet
Sorceress
Dressed in the past
All arrayed.
The stars
The moon
She reads the future
in your hand.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The walls are garish red
The stairs
High discordant screaming
She has the tokens.
"You too"
"Don't go"
He flees.
Music renews.
The mating-pit.
"Salvation"
Tempted to leap in circle.

Negroes riot.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Fear the Lords who are secret among us.
The Lords are w/ in us.
Born of sloth & cowardice.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He spoke to me. He frightened
me w/ laughter. He took
my hand, & led me past
silence into cool whispered
Bells.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A file of young people
going thru a small woods


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
They are filming something
in the street, in front of
our house.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Walking to the riot
Spreads to the houses
the lawns

suddenly alive now
w/ people
running


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I don't dig what they did
to that girl
Mercy pack
Wild song they sing
As they chop her hands
Nailed to a ghost
Tree
I saw a lynching
Met the strange men of the souther swamp
Cypress was their talk
Fish-call & bird-song
Roots & signs out of all knowing
They chanced to be there
Guides, to the white
gods.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
An armed camp.
Army army
burning itself in
feasts.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jackal, we sniff after the survivors of caravans.
We reap bloody crops on war fields.
No meat of any corpse deprives our lean bellies.
Hunger drives us on scented winds.
Stranger, traveler,
peer into our eyes & translate
the horrible barking of ancient dogs.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Camel caravans bear
witness guns to Caesar.
Hordes crawl & seep inside
the walls. The streets
flow stone. Life goes
on absorbing war. Violence
kills the temple of no sex.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Terrible shouts start
the journey
- If they had migrated sooner
- a high wailing keening
piercing animal lament
from a woman
high atop a Mt. tower

- Thin wire fence
in the mind
dividing the heart

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Surreptitiously
They smile
Inviting - Smiling

Choktai
leave!
evil
leave!
No come here
Leave her!

A creature is nursing
its child
soft arms around
the head & the neck
a mouth to connect
leave this child alone
This one is mine
I'm taking her home
Back to the rain


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The assassin's bullet
Marries the King
Dissembling miles of air
To kiss the crown.
The Prince rambles in blood.
Ode to the neck
That was groomed
For rape's gown.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Cancer city
Urban fall
Summer sadness
The highways of the old town
Ghosts in cars
Electric shadows


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ensenada
the dead seal
the dog crucifix
ghosts of the dead car sun.
Stop the car.
Rain. Night.
Feel.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sea-bird sea-moan
Earthquake murmuring
Fast-burning incense
Clamoring surging
Serpentine road
To the Chinese caves
Home of the winds
The gods of mourning


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The city sleeps
& the unhappy children
roam w/ animal gangs.
They seem to speak
to their friends
the dogs
who teach them trails.
Who can catch them?
Who can make them come
inside?


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The tent girl
at midnight
stole to the well
& met her lover there
They talked a while
& laughed
& then he left
She put an orange pillow
on her breast
In the morning
Chief w/drew his troops
& planned a map
The horsemen rose on up
the women fixed the ropes
on tight
The tents are folded now
We march toward the sea

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Catalog of Horrors
Descriptions of Natural disaster
Lists of miracles in the divine corridor
Catalog of fish in the divine canal
Catalog of objects in the room
List of things in the sacred river


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I
The soft parade has now begun
on Sunset.
Cars come thundering down
the canyon.
Now is the time & the place.
The cars come rumbling.
"You got a cool machine."
These engine beasts
muttering their soft
talk. A delight
at night
to hear their quiet voices
again
after 2 years.
Now the soft parade
has soon begun.
Cool pools
from a tired land
sink now
in the peace of evening.
Clouds weaken
& die.
The sun, an orange skull,
whispers quietly, becomes an
island, & is gone.

There they are
watching
us everything
will be dark.
The light changed.
We were aware
knee-deep in the fluttering air
as the ships move on
trains in their wake.
Trench mouth
again in the camps.
Gonorrhea
Tell the girl to go home
We need a witness
to the killing.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

II
The artists of Hell
set up easels in parks
the terrible landscape,
where citizens find anxious pleasure
preyed upon by savage bands of youths
I can't believe this is happening
I can't believe all these people
are sniffing each other
& backing away
teeth grinning
hair raised, growling, here in
the slaughtered wind

I am ghost killer.
witnessing to all
my blessed sanction

This is it
no more fun
the death of all joy
has come.

Do you dare
deny my
potency
my kindness
or forgiveness?
Just try
you will fry
like the rest
in holiness

And not for a
penny
will I spare
any time
for you
Ghost children
down there
in the frightening world

You are alone
& have no need of other
you & the child mother
who bore you
who weaned you
who made you man

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

III
Photo-booth killer
fragile bandit
straight from ambush
Kill me!
Kill the child who made
Thee.
Kill the thought-provoking
senator of lust
who brought you to this state.

Kill hate
disease
warfare
sadness

Kill badness
Kill madness

Kill photo mother murder tree
Kill me.
Kill yourself
Kill the little blind elf.

The beautiful monster
vomits a stream of watches
clocks jewels knives silver
coins & copper blood

The well of time & trouble
whiskey bottles perfume
razor blades beads
liquid insects hammers
& thin nails the feet of
birds eagle feathers & claws
machine parts chrome
teeth hair shards of
pottery & skulls the ruins
of our time the debris by
a lake the gleaming
beer cans & rust & sable
menstrual fur

Dance naked on broken
bones feet bleed & stain
glass cuts cover your mind
& the dry end of vacuum
boat white the people
drop lines in still pools
& pull ancient trout
from the deep home. Scales
crusted & gleaming green
A knife was stolen. A
valuable hunting knife
By some strange boys
from the other camp across
the Lake

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I
Are these our friends
racing & shuddering
thru the calm vales of parliament
My son will not die in the war
He will return
numbed peasent voice of Orient
fisherman

Last time you said
this was the only way
voice of tender young girl

Running & speaking
infected green
jungles

consult the oracle
bitter creek
crawl
they exist on rainwater

monkey-love
mantra mate
maker of brandy

The poison isles
The poison

Take this thin granule
of evil snakeroot
from the southern
shore

way out miracle
will find thee

The chopper blazed over
inward click & sure
blasted matter, made
the time bombs free
of leprous lands
spotted w/ hunger
& clinging to law

Please
show us your ragged head
& silted smiling eyes
calm in fire
a silky flowered shirt
edging the eyes, alive
spidery, distant
dial lies

come, calm one
into the life-try

already wifelike
latent, leathery, loose
lawless, large & languid
She was a kingdom-cry
legion of lewd marching
mind-men

Where are your manners
out there on the sunlit
desert
boundless galaxies of dust
cactus spines, beads
bleach stones, bottles
& rust cars, stored for shaping

The new man, time-soldier
picked his way narrowly
thru the crowded ruins
of once grave city, gone
comic now w/ rats
& the insects of refuge

He lives in cars
goes fruitless thru
the frozen schools
& finds no space
in shades of obedience

the monitors are silenced
the great graveled guard-towers
sicken on the westward beach
so tired of watching

if only on horse were left
to ride thru the waste
a dog at his side
to sniff meat-maids
chained on the public poles

there is no more argument
in beds, at night
blackness is burned
Stare into the parlors of town
where a woman dances
in her European gown
to the great waltzes
this could be fun
to rule a wasteland

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

II
Cherry palms
Terrible shores
& more
& many more
This we know
that all are free
in the school-made
text of the unforgiven

deceit smiles
incredible hardships are suffered
by those barely able
to endure

but all will pass
lie down in green grass
& smile, & muse, & gaze
upon her smooth
resemblance
to the mating-Queen
who it seems
is in love
w/ the horseman

now, isn't that fragrant
Sir, isn't that knowing
w/ a wayward careless
backward glance

July 24, 1968
Los Angeles, The United States, Hawaii



THE HITCHIKER---



THE SCREEN IS BLACK. We hear a young man's voice in
casual conversation with friends.

No, this guy told me you can go
down across the border and buy a
girl and bring her back and that's
what I'm goin' to do, I'm gonna go
down there and buy one of them and
bring her back and marry her. I am.

An older woman's voice

Billy, are you completely crazy?

We hear the good-natured laughter of the woman, a man
and another friend as Billy's insistent voice rises through
saying:

BILLY
No, it's true. Really. This guy told
me. It's true. I'm really gonna do it.

The film changes to COLOR. A couple sit at a small table in
a simulated border town nightclub. It is a CLOSE shot,
reminding us possibly of Picasso's "Absinthe Drinkers." The
atmosphere is suggested by peripheral sounds such as bois-
terous young voices, curses in a foreign language, the tin-
kling of glasses and music from a small rock band. Perhaps a
dancer is visible in the background. Perhaps topless. An
anonymous waitress could enter the frame and leave, serving
drinks.

The HERO is drunk and he's trying to persuade an attractive
Mexican girl, a waitress in the bar, a whore, to cross the
border and marry him. The girl tolerates him. She is work-
ing, hustling drinks, and has to listen but also she likes him.
In some way, he interests her.

BILLY
I bet only reason you won't come
with me is because I ain't got any
money. Well, listen. I'm tellin' you.
I'm gonna go back up there and get
me some money, lots of it, maybe
even ten thousand. And then I'm
comin' back for you. I'm comin'
back.

He weaves offscreen, determined, drunk, camera hold on
girl, smiling wistfully and ironically after him. Then she
grabs another young American and pulls him down beside
her.

THE GIRL
Hey, man, you want to buy me a
drink?

TITLE
THE HITCHHIKER
(An American Pastoral)

Film changes to BLACK and WHITE. It is dawn on the
American desert; it's cold, and he stands hunched in his
jacket, by the side of the highway. The sun is rising. We
hold on him as a few cars go by at long intervals. We hear
the car coming, watch his eyes watching, he sticks his thumb
out. CUT TO profile shot, as a car swishes by. The third
car stops and he runs, not too energetically and get inside.

INTERIOR car. Middle-aged man in a business suit. He asks
the hitchhiker where he is going.

BILLY
(mumbling)
L.A.

He is obviously reluctant to do any talking.

THE DRIVER
I can take you as far as Amarillo and
then you'll have to go on from there.

BILLY
(No reply. No recognition.)

DRIVER
What are you going to do when you
get to L.A.? Have you got a job lined
up?

BILLY
(No answer. He is beginning to nod.)
The man drives on. We see glimses of the American land-
scape out the window of the car. The man glances sideways
occasionally at Billy who is sleeping.

CLOSE UP of the man's right hand moving snake-like to-
wards the hiker's left leg. He hesitates and then touches it
above the knee. Immediately, a .38 revolver appears from
Billy jacket and points at the driver.

BILLY
Pull over.

Profile of car, left side, extremely long shot. We hear a shot.
The hitchhiker comes around the rear of the car, opens the
door, and pulls the driver toward camera, his corpse that is,
to the gully, and, after stripping his wallet of all the cash,
gets into the car and drives away.

The kid is standing beside the car with his thumb out. The
hood is raised. The engine has failed. A State Patrolman (we
learn this from his uniform, western hat, and badge) stops in
his own unmarked car. Billy gets in the car. The sheriff is
friendly. He talks a lot. He tells Billy that he's just getting
back home after delivering two lunatics from his local jail to
the state asylum.

SHERIFF
I had to put them both in straight-
jackets and throw them in the back
of the wagon. I had to. They were
totally uninhibited. I mean, if I let
'em loose, they just start jerking off
and playing with each other, so I had
to keep them tied up.

The killer is trying to stay awake. He's strung out on ben-
nies, and also just plain exhausted, and he's fighting to fol-
low the man's conversation. The sheriff rambles on. Billy is
in that weird state between what's being said in reality and what
he hears in his dream. The sheriff asks a question. He an-
swers and then jerks up suddenly to realize that he's been
inventing his own dialogue inside his head. Finally, he can
take it no longer. He pulls the gun out and orders the sheriff
to pull over to the side of the road. Then he forces him to
unlock the trunk, orders him inside and slams the lid.

INTERIOR of car. The hitchhiker is driving on.

As the car slows down for an upgrade, the trunk flies open
and the sheriff tumbles out into the dust. Billy sees it in the
rearview mirror. He slams on the brakes, jumps out of the
car and runs back to the spot. From off in the desert, we see
the sheriff racing insanely toward the camera. He suddenly
leaps and throws himself flat on the ground behind a sand
dune, next to the camera. From this point of view, the sheriff
crouched and breathing in heavy gasps, we watch the kid
stand on the side of the road, stare out into the desert and
finally get back into the car and drive away.

Billy is hitchhiking again. Obviously, he has ditched the
sheriff's car somewhere along the way. A car pulls over.
There is a young man driving and in the back seat are his
wife and two small children, a boy and a girl. The driver is
friendly, tells him he used to hitchhike a lot himself and
volunteers the information that he has just returned home
from two years in Viet Nam, where he was a pilot. Billy
pulls out the gun and lets them know immediately that he
wants them to take him anywhere he wants to go. Other-
wise, he'll kill them.

It is NIGHT. They pull into a gas station. Billy is hungry,
so are the kids. So he goes with the ex-aviator into a small
country store that's part of the station. He warns the family
to keep quiet or he'll kill everyone.

INSIDE the country store. A seedy old man behind the
counter. They ask him for a bunch of ham sandwiches. In
close-up, we watch him slice the meat, the knife hesitating
minutely, deciding on the thickness of each slice. The two
men stand there watching him. Suddenly, the husband
wheels around and gets a grip on the hitchhiker from behind.
They whirl madly around the store, the father screaming for
the proprietor to call the police.

THE MAN
Stop him! He's got a gun!! He's
gonna kill us!!! Help me!!!!

Billy somehow manages to get his gun out and forces the
man to the car. The store owner stares after him, mouth
agape, then picks up the receiver to call the police.

MORNING. A young boy finds the car, pulled off on a side
road, splattered with blood. He opens the door and sees the
little girl's baby doll, the naked, flesh-colored rubber kind,
and in close-up, we see blood on it.

The EXTERIOR of a run-down shack in the country. We
hear the sounds from inside. INTERIOR of shack. Televi-
sion and radio and newspaper reporters, including an attrac-
tive woman with a notebook, are interviewing the killer's
father. He's a very old man, an alcoholic, who is slightly
pleased to be thrust suddenly into the spotlight, but who
feats the situation with a grave sense of public image and
self-irony.
THE FATHER
He was always a pretty strange boy,
specially after his mother passed
away. Then he got real quiet. He
didn't have many friends. Just his
brothers and sisters.

GIRL REPORTER
Mr. Cooke, is there anything you'd
like to tell your son?

FATHER
Yes, there is. Billy, if you can hear
me, son, please turn yourself in.
Cause what you're doin', it just ain't
right. You're not doin' right, son.
And you know it.

During this appeal, the camera has moved slowly into a
CLOSE-UP of the old man's face.

INTERIOR. Car. Night. Rain. A car radio. The light glows
yellow in the dark car. The radio is playing a country gospel
hour. A revival meeting. The preacher and his flock. As Billy
listens, we flash back into his past, over the rain and wind-
shield wipers. We see an old man and a young boy in the
woods. The man is Billy's father and the boy is Billy himself
at about age seven or eight. The father teaches his son how
to shoot a gun. He tell him to aim at a rabbit.

THE FATHER
Don't be afraid, son. Don't be afraid.
Just squeeze one off.

We see a rabbit pinioned in a rifle's telescopic sight.

A small town high school, 3:30, bell rings, school is out. The
kids gush from the building and flow like a human stream to
the favorite drive-in restaurant.

INTERIOR of car. Billy is eating a cheeseburger and Coke.
Through his windows he watches the movements of one of
the carhops. She is wearing slacks and with him we watch
her ass and thighs. When she comes to collect, he asks her to
come for a ride with him. We hear him say this but the
ensuing dialogue is shown in pantomime. The actual voices
are drowned out by the sounds of radios, kids talking.

They are driving up a mountain road. The Rolling Stones'
"I Can't Get No Satisfaction" comes on the radio. Billy sings
along with the record with wild abandon and squirms in his
seat like a toad.

The car is parked on a rocky view overlooking the ocean.
He gets out of the car and dances around it, acting crazy, and
howling like an Indian. He ducks up and down, appearing
and reappearing in different windows. She laughs at his
clowning.

The couple are in the back seat, vaguely we see their move-
ments, hear them whispering, laughing, talking. CUT TO
outside of car. They get out of the back of the car, hair and
clothes disarranged and move side by side into a rough ter-
rain behind some rocks. Camera holds on the rocks. A pri-
meval rock formation. At a rhythm that is peculiarly
excruciating, we hear three gunshots.

A rest room in an LA service station. EXTERIOR. Billy
enters rest room.

INTERIOR rest room. Billy shaves with soap in rest room
mirror, runs his wet hands through his hair.

EXTERIOR, downtown LA. Camera follows him from a
car, as he wanders through the downtown crowds of Broad-
way and Main Street. Many times he is lost to our view. We
see him in an arcade, where he plays a pinball machine.

CLOSE-UP of pinball game in progress.

Billy in photo booth. Flash of the lights.

CLOSE-UP of four automatic photos: flash flash flash flash.
Four faces of Billy.

Billy in downtown hamburger stand. He is eating, seen from
behind, Gun enters frame left. He turns and sees it, stares
back blankly.

CUT TO EXTERIOR, street. In hand-held confused close-
up sequence, we see him dragged and shoved into the back
seat of a car (police car). He is kicked and beaten. During the
struggle, we hear many men's voices, gloating righteous ex-
clamations.

MEN
So you're the little bastard that
killed all those people! (Kick) You
had a good time, didn't you? (Kick)
You really killed 'em, didn't you?

Hands cuffed behind his back, he looks up with a confused
expression and says:

BILLY
But I'm a good boy.

The men laugh.
Film switches to COLOR. A montage of extant photo-
graphs representing death. The body of Che Guevara, a
northern Renaissance Dutch crucifixion, bullfight, slaugh-
terhouse, mandalas and into abstraction. A nature film of a
mongoose killing a cobra, a black dog runs free on the beach.
FADE INTO BLACKNESS.

EXTERIOR night. On the steps of City Hall of Justice we
see the hitchhiker descend dreamlike in slow motion, move
languorously across a deserted city square toward the camera
until he covers the lens and seems to pass through it.

Seen now from behind, as he moves away from lens, he
enters a desert outskirt region where he finds an automobile
graveyard. He is wandering in Eternity. In the junkyard,
three people squat around a small fire. They're cooking po-
tatoes in the coals, an older man named DOC pokes the fire
with a stick. There is an older woman, funky, glamorous,
and the third person is a young boy, a mute, of indeterminate
age. He is slightly made up with white makeup. They are
hoboes in Eternity and are not surprised to see him. He nears
the fire.

DOC
Well, how ya doin', kid? I see you
did it again. Ya hungry? There's
some food here if ya want it.

Billy doesn't speak. He stares at the moon. The woman has
kept her head down, her hair covering her face.

DOC
Billy's back. Blue Lady, didja hear
me? I said Billy's back.

She looks up for the first time.

BLUE LADY
Hi, Billy.

BILLY
Hello, Blue Lady.

He looks at the boy.

Hiya, Clown Boy.

CLOWN BOY claps his hands and nods, his face contorted
grotesquely in greeting. They sit for a while like this, and
stare at the fire. They eat the potatoes. Then Doc rises and
says:

DOC
The sun's gonna be up in a while. I
guess we'd better move on.

Slowly, one by one, the other two rise. Doc puts out the fire
with dirt and says:

DOC
Ya comin' with us, Billy?

BILLY
(thinking hard)
I don't know, Doc, I just don't know.

Doc smiles.

DOC
Well, we'll see ya later, kid. The rest
of the gang will be real glad to see
ya. They sure will. Well...

Doc, Clown Boy and the Blue Lady start moving toward
the rising sun into the mountain desert. Every now and then
they turn and wave, Clown Boy leaping up and down madly
and waving good-bye.

As they slowly disappear, camera changes focus to Billy, the
hitchhiker, the kid, the killer, hunkered over the dead smol-
dering fire.

THE END

THE LOST TAPES (Transcripción)

~Radio Dark Night~

In that year
We had an intense visitation of energy

When radio dark night existed and assumed control,
And we rocked in its web
Consumed by static, and stroked with fear
We were drawn down long from a deep sleep,
And awaken'd at dayfall by worried guardeners
And made to be led thru dew wet jungle to the swift summit,
O'er looking the sea...

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

~A Vast Radiant Beach (Awake)~
A vast radiant beach and a cool jewelled moon.
Couples naked race down by its quiet side
And we laugh like soft mad children,
Smug in the wooly cotton brains of infancy.

The music and 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 with us.
Everything is broken up and dances

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

~Moonshine Night~
(At this point we hear a West Virginia mountain music, Violins)
Moonshine night Mountain Village
Insane in the woods in the deep trees
Under the moon
Beneath the stars
They reel and dance
The young folk
Led to the Lake by a King and Queen
Oh, I want to be there I want us to be there
Beside the lake
Beneath the moon
Cool and swollen dripping its hot liquor
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

~Frozen Moment By A Lake~
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, 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

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
~Dawns HWY~
Indians scattered on dawn's highway bleeding
Ghosts crowd the young child's fragile egg-shell mind

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

~Under Waterfall~
Underwaterfall, Underwaterfall
The girls return from summer balls
Let's steal the eye that sees us all

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

~The Hitchhiker~
Tell them you came and saw & looked into my eyes,
And saw the shadow of the guard receding
Thoughts in time and out of season

The hitchhiker stood by the side of the road
And levelled his thumb in the calm calculus of reason
(and then 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, endlessly in flight

Your dog is still lost in the frozen woods or he would run to you
How can he run to you lunging with blooded sickness on the snow
He's still sniffing gates and 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 without him?

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

~Winter Photography~
Winter Photography
our love's in jeopardy

Winter Photography
our love's in jeopardy

Sit up all night, talking smoking
Count the dead and wait for morning

(Will warm names and faces come again?
Does the silver forest end?)

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

~Whiskey, Mystics And Men~
Well I'll tell you a story of whiskey and mystics and men
And about the believers, and how the whole thing began
First there were women and children obeying the moon
Then daylight brought wisdom and fever and 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 and preachers of wealth were arraigned
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 remorse
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

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

~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
And her sister is a star
And her mother smokes diamonds
And she sleeps out in the car
Yeah, but she rememebers Chicago
The musicians and guitars
And grass by the lake and people who laugh'd
And made her poor heart ache

Now we live down in the valley
We work out on the farm
We climb up to the mountains and
everything's fine and
I'm still here and
You're still there and
We're still around.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
~ All Hail The American Night~
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 without proper credentials.

This is to say that we are all sensate and occasionally sad and if every
Partner in crime were to incorporate promises in his program
The dance might end and all our friends would follow another program.

Who are our friends?
Are they sullen and slow?
Do they have great desire?
Or are they one of the multitude who...
Walk doubting their impossible regret.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

~Far Arden Poem~
Certainly things happen and reoccur in continuous promise;
All of us have found a safe niche where we can store up riches
And talk to our fellows on the same premise of disaster.

But this will not do.
No, this will never do.

There are continents and 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

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

~Texas Radio & The Big Beat~
(Letter From Shirley)
(In this next part will be done in a woman voice)
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 the night.
I want the old forms to reassert their sexual cool.
My friend 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 and dedicated smile
Like a calm survivor 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 and his dedication extended to the last degree.
Poor pretentious soldier, come home.

The dark Los Angeles evening is steaming the Church
That we attended and I miss my boy.
Stupid in green- What the color green?
When I watch the T.V. and I see helicopters swirling
Their brutal and bountiful sensation
Over the fields and the comic walls
I can only smile and fix a meal and think
About the child who will one day own you.

In conclusion, darling, let me repeat:
Our home is still here, inviolate and certain
And I open the wide smile of my remembrance
Of your enlanging face

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 afternoon with my total love:

Sherley.




Bueno esos son los que pude conseguir... espero que les gusten..