Wednesday, June 23, 2004

Aurora (sunrise on Broadway tripping fantastic)

At the beginning of day
the freaks of petty paradises
the face of lies and rocks
fly by the malnourished wind,

unlaced monsters and disaster river
forever carrying in the depths
height deep as the floor of the sea

arrogant guards against the oppressive surroundings,
surveyed night and day by a cursed unpatriotic sun.

burgeoning with frail hunger
and pitted with smallpox alcohol
stranded in the dust of this town

the extreme deception desolate wounds
the waters of martyrs do not bear witness;
they fade and scatter in the empty wind

the screeching of soldiers
a life of babbling opened by aged poverty
rotting under the silence bursting with
fragile thickness humiliating by its grandiose nudity

the mouths will explode
the dreams will awake
at the beginning of the day

this town will topple with it’s uncommon weight
its fate, no matter what self-conscious
fighting furiously with hours that have passed quickly

this morning with holy cracks in her face
will again conjure the genius of solitude
The clothes on the chair at the foot of the bed

are illuminated by great wings of white satin gowns
with ships and now crouched in the chimney
i was watching for the silence of pavements

coal darkness that persists in projecting the shadow of its smoke
and the reflections of its eyes, while I walk on the pavement of
downtown Manhattan, clear noon, and I've been up all night, talking,

talking, listening to Jimi Hendrix memorize stanzas aloud,
singing dream remembering imagination toward apocalypse,
a flash away, and the great dream of a poem

worshipping each letter at the beginning of the day
as I go out and walk the street, look over my shoulder,
Broadway, the battle of buildings shouldering each other

under a cloud, the century of backroom floor boards--
through breakdowns learning to be mad or madlike
what is this life? toward the top of the sunrise

and the top of Manhattan is over the floor, and lays down on the sidewalk
this place of poverty carrying strange to be strange
magnificent, mourned, marred of heart, married to a dream, mortal maddened Utopia,

for years now I still haven't written my history
left it abstract with a few photos to run through the mind
like electrical shocks. my opinion of the cosmos, I was lost--

my burden that I put on has broken my nose with
gas mask poison punches sneaked through my defense
at the beginning of the day



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