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back to mainMONEY... Poems from TAPE NOON
ENTER THE SLIP
THE DESERT
BIBULOUS COMPOUND OF
YOU MUST CONFRONT
HOPE IS JUST...
WELCOME TO THE AMERICAN NIGHT
COCK-PIT
SUDDEN ATTACK
THIS IS MY FOREST
DANCING & THRASHING
TRANSLATIONS OF THE DIVINE
ELECTRIC STORM
THE FORM IS AN ANGEL...
LEAVE THE INFORMED SENSE
We must tie all these
desperate impressions together
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Money, the beauty of (currency pale green greasy ornate soft furrowed texture) Skin or leather
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Enter the slip of the warm womb tide Wet labyrinth kiss digging the wells & riding the lies all holes & poles Walk down a street A drive to the beach Drowning man's flash A town in siege
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The Desert -- roseate metallic blue & insect green blank mirrors & pools of silver a universe in one body
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Bibulous compound of muck & mulch milk Tenebrous connections in forest & farm all-swarming disk-like elegance Say No More - That sure was a mouthful. - You said it.
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you must confront your life which is sneaking up on you like a rapt coiled serpent snail-slime you must confront the inevitable eventually Bloody Bones has got you!
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hope is just a word when you think in Table Cloths Laughter will not end her funny feeling or assuage our strange desire Children will be born
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Welcome to the American Night where dogs bite to find the voice the face the fate the fame to be tamed by The Night in a quiet soft luxuriant car Hitchhikers line the Great Highway
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Cock-pit I am real Take a snapshot of me He is real, shot Reality is what has been concealed from us for so long birth sex death we're alive when we laugh when we can feel the rush & spurt of blood blood is real in its redness the rainbow is real in absence of blood
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Sudden attack Stabbed & hacked but no pain no death Zone of silence Sudden powered mute strangeness & awareness most awkward to the mind alive w/ love & laughter & memory sweet of kinder times when we spoke & words had soft form by a fire
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This is my forest a sea of wires. This gaggle of vision is my flame. These trees are men, the engineers. And a tribe of farmers on their Sunday off. Gods -- the directors. Cameras, greek Centaurs on the boom, sliding w/ silent Mobile grace Toward me -- a leaping clown In the great sun's eye. Grand danger there in curved thigh. The avenging finger -- lord.
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Dancing & thrashing the reptile summer They'll be here long before we're gone Sunning themselves on the marble porch Raging w/in against the slow heat Of an invaded Town The Kingdom is ours
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Translations of the divine in all languages. The Blues, The records get you high, in armies / on swift channels. The new dreamer will sing to the mind w/ thoughts unclutched by speech. Pirate mind stations. Las Vegas T.V. Midnite showings.
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electric storm from the front barometer at zero forest blue-eyed dog strangled by snow Night storm flight-drive thru deserts neon capitals, Wilderness echoed & silenced by angels Angel Flight to tobacco farm the roadhouse tomorrow get ready for the Night the rumors on waking a gradual feeling of learning & remembering imagine a heaven in the night-time would one member be missing?
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The form is an angel of soul from horse to man to boy & back again Music sex & idea are the currents of connection friendship transition conductor of soul from the fat brain of stealth to sunset Work out Welcome to the night Welcome to the deep good dark American Night a man gets time to die his amber waste sloven footsteps of swine in the camps, w/ dark black lumber crooked stars have destiny's number Lord help us
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Leave the informed sense in our wake you be Christ on this package tour -- Money beats soul -- Last words, last words out