Poetic Fragments from Prison 1997
Found another forgotten notebook today - I filled it in late 1996 and early 1997 and titled it Indy Cent Exposure. Might change that to to Sent or Scent if I was titling it today. On the front page I drew an abstract penny with my head in it (I'm on the laptop and don't have access to my scanner, or I might share it with you) and used an African proverb as the inscription: "Make the drum available — and the drummer will appear." This notebook includes 83 poems, skits, songs, etc., in various states of incompletion. For amusement's sake I will share a few with you today. Hope nobody wants to revoke my poetic lie-sense....
RESOLUTION, p. 52
[Wed. 1 January 1997, c. 12:45 a.m.]
This is the year
Of the proselyte
Prospective
Prostitute
Let us resolve
To sell ourselves
To ourselves
And the new year.
* * *
UNDER AWARE, p. 65
[Sat. 1 Feb. 1997, 4:35 p.m.]
To the height of
Om
Reaching into
Om
Nightly surrendering
Tasting the blood of
Om
Razing the walls
Ambling through
Preaching nothing
Towing the booty of
Om
Reeling into
Serenity
* * *
RAIN BLOW, p. 68
[Wed. 5 Feb 1997, 9:20 a.m.]
Concupiscent dawn
Lilts and twirls
(Turning down the high collar of
A light blue tongue)
Breathes tightly
Swallows black and white
Regurgitates color
* * *
GATHA, p. 70
[Thurs. 6 Feb. 1997, 11:30 p.m.]
When I sit on my bunk
I vow to all beings
That I will see the beauty in my blanket
And the cold.
* * *
FLATULENCE, p. 77
[Wed. 19 Feb. 1997, 7:50 p.m.]
What
Wonderful tales
Your tail
Does tell.
* * *
BL' EDEN, p. 81
[Sat. 1 March 1997, 2 a.m.]
It's been said
Eden is blue
And guaranteed
Red-gold paint on the highway
We are directed blindly
Formless
At least unconscious
Forces invent us
And the lead guitar bewails
Our separation
Unaware of our destiny
Not all that rises falls
Not all ends meet
But fate will not be denied
And there are more berries in Eden
Than blue
* * *
improvisation by Burroughs/Cruxton/Awada, p. 83
[Mon. 10 March 1997, 10:45 p.m.]
Darkness
Proclaims
Sunshine daydream
Holiness subdued
God's form
Ballooning in splendor
Cheapened by flesh
Bitch Christ for hire
RESOLUTION, p. 52
[Wed. 1 January 1997, c. 12:45 a.m.]
This is the year
Of the proselyte
Prospective
Prostitute
Let us resolve
To sell ourselves
To ourselves
And the new year.
* * *
UNDER AWARE, p. 65
[Sat. 1 Feb. 1997, 4:35 p.m.]
To the height of
Om
Reaching into
Om
Nightly surrendering
Tasting the blood of
Om
Razing the walls
Ambling through
Preaching nothing
Towing the booty of
Om
Reeling into
Serenity
* * *
RAIN BLOW, p. 68
[Wed. 5 Feb 1997, 9:20 a.m.]
Concupiscent dawn
Lilts and twirls
(Turning down the high collar of
A light blue tongue)
Breathes tightly
Swallows black and white
Regurgitates color
* * *
GATHA, p. 70
[Thurs. 6 Feb. 1997, 11:30 p.m.]
When I sit on my bunk
I vow to all beings
That I will see the beauty in my blanket
And the cold.
* * *
FLATULENCE, p. 77
[Wed. 19 Feb. 1997, 7:50 p.m.]
What
Wonderful tales
Your tail
Does tell.
* * *
BL' EDEN, p. 81
[Sat. 1 March 1997, 2 a.m.]
It's been said
Eden is blue
And guaranteed
Red-gold paint on the highway
We are directed blindly
Formless
At least unconscious
Forces invent us
And the lead guitar bewails
Our separation
Unaware of our destiny
Not all that rises falls
Not all ends meet
But fate will not be denied
And there are more berries in Eden
Than blue
* * *
improvisation by Burroughs/Cruxton/Awada, p. 83
[Mon. 10 March 1997, 10:45 p.m.]
Darkness
Proclaims
Sunshine daydream
Holiness subdued
God's form
Ballooning in splendor
Cheapened by flesh
Bitch Christ for hire
It seems that you always have had poetry in your mind. These are very interesting.
Under Aware struck me as very Buddhist and I like "reeling into serenity"
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Thanks, Elena! I'm not sure why the first letters of the lines in that poem spell out TORONTO RAPTORS. Someone must've been watching (or listening to) a basketball game in my vicinity.... At night we could catch a Toronto station on AM radio.
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your Rain Blow's use of "concupiscent" reminded me of this:
Poetry of Wallace Stevens
The Emperor of Ice-Cream
Call the roller of big cigars,
The muscular one, and bid him whip
In kitchen cups concupiscent curds.
Let the wenches dawdle in such dress
As they are used to wear, and let the boys
Bring flowers in last month's newspapers.
Let be be finale of seem.
The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.
Take from the dresser of deal,
Lacking the three glass knobs, that sheet
On which she embroidered fantails once
And spread it so as to cover her face.
If her horny feet protrude, they come
To show how cold she is, and dumb.
Let the lamp affix its beam.
The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.
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I learned that word from the Bible - King James Version - in high school.
Forgot Stevens used it in that poem...
Hmm - might be time to add another WS work to the Online Library.
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As I look out the window on the "rosy fingered dawn" I am wondering what a concupiscent dawn looks like? Or a concupiscent curd in the kitchen?? Are both dawn and curds lustful? It might better apply to a concubine!! lol
Poetic lie-sense indeed!!
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I always like when you share these..
It reminds me of a young boy who has his pockets stuffed with "treasures" he's collected on his wanderings and pulls them out one by one to show you what he's found... "a penny", a string, an old key, etc...
These are things you created that you share the same way, lost or forgotten items, small vignettes.. items.. that even you've forgot what you had.
I'm always curious about what you carry in your poetic "pockets".
I like "gatha"... it has a sweetness to it. Very nice.
I also like "BL'eden"... it's good. I think both should be come back out to the light of day..
I like that they may reflect what you might have been reading or doing during a particular day...
Influences from the Gita and Eastern Religion here, cynicism and bite here...
Thanks for sharing John.
I actually like these to all the videos you've been posting... I like videos but your own personal offerings are always better.
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I agree with Chris...
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Yesterday I was thinking the same thing, about how these must reflect whatever I was reading at a particular time. But I couldn't remember what I was reading then, so I dug out the list I kept. Here's what I was reading around the time I wrote these pieces - but bear in mind that I only put books I finished on the list. I was likely reading other things as well.
Aristophanes: Lysistrata
Plato: Apology
Allen Ginsberg: Reality Sandwiches
Allen Ginsberg: Kaddish and Other Poems
Albert Camus: The Fall (trans. by Justin O'Brien)
Sister Helen Prejean: Dead Man Walking
Robert A. Heinlein: Stranger in a Strange Land
William Carlos Williams: The Wedge
Steven Lynn: Texts & Contexts: Writing about Literature with Critical Theory
Paul Tice: Buddhist Ethics: The Way to Salvation?
Robert Aitken: The Dragon Who Never Sleeps: Verses for Zen Buddhist Practice
Thich Nhat Hanh: Transformation & Healing: Sutra on the Four Establishments of Mindfulness
Virginia Woolf: To the Lighthouse
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am digging the selection & variety included here.
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Thanks, Joy! Perhaps I'll post more in the near future, for better or worse.
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"Under Aware" was finally published in the Winter 2010 issue of Ship of Fools.
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