ashfoot, ashfoot
under moonball capsules of starlight
take two tubes of the sea
and with hipster tone,
squeeze upon my subterranean pinnacle
handcuffed to a midnight train
brakeman with burning lantern
punched me to nothing more,
take two more boxes to burn
smoke and steam
play it cool
sinister strapped luggage fell
to which i became lashed
tunnel -bone condemnation
under white haired
fawns feet
voices from regions unknown
lifted me away
to churches with horns
and fed capsules of better things
hopping away the vision
pierced bone
i was no longer
the bum
with sorry leg
dada at dVerse poets an interesting cut up as i used Gregory Corso In the Tunnel Bone of Cambridge which is below
IN THE TUNNEL-BONE OF CAMBRIDGE
1
In spite of voices-
Cambridge and all its regions
Its horned churches with fawns’ feet
Its white-haired young
and ashfoot legions-
I decided to spend the night
But that hipster-tone of my vision agent
Decided to reconcile his sound with the sea leaving me flat
North of the Charles
So now I’m stuck here-—
a subterranean
lashed to a pinnacle
2
I don’t know the better things that people know
All I know is the deserter condemned me to black-
He said: Gregory, here’s two boxes of night one tube of moon
And twenty capsules of starlight, go an’ have a ball-
He left and the creep took all my Gerry Mulligan records with him
3
But he didn’t cut out right then
I saw him hopping
On Brattle street today-
he’s got a bum leg
on his way to the tunnel-bone
He made like he didn’t see me
He was trying to play it cool
4
Wild in the station-bone
Strapped in a luggage vision-bone
made sinister by old lessons of motion
The time-tablebone said: Black
Handcuffed to a minister
Released in a padded diesel
The brakeman punched my back: Destination, black
Out the window I could see my vision agent
hopping along the platform
swinging a burning-lantern-bone like mad
All aboard, he laughed, all aboard
Far into the tunnel-bone I put my ear to the ear
of the minister–and I could hear
the steel say to the steam
and the steam to the roar: a black ahead
A black ahead a black and nothing more.
Lovely ghostly stuff – and glad you are no longer the bum with the sorry leg!:o]
Anna :o]
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Anna thank you , hugs to you
Chris
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I think I like yours better!
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Rosemary wow thanks i feel humble and glad you liked
all the best
Chris
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Beautifully done! I find it very interesting when I did mine. The poem can go in any direction without inhibition. It would end up in a good way, somehow! Nicely Chris!
Hank
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Hank thank you deeply
all the best
Chris
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Hot damn- the source is a hell of a poem, what a great choice- and you rocked it! Great Dadaist writing here. The word ‘moonball’ alone does it for me. Geez, this is killer. Epic. -Mike
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Mike thank you very much i am lost for words all the best
chris
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handcuffed to a night train…ha…now that would be a ride…the two tubes squeeze is a very cool part as well….fun exercise….
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Thanks Brian it would be quite a ride all the best
chris
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This is a very interesting, and successful implementation of the dada method. I like the idea that you used Gregory Corso is your primary text. Since he’s a poet, whose writing style seems to be cut up to begin with.
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Corso is one of my favourites and Burroughs lured Corso into the cut up so i thought why not, thank you so much and all the best
Chris
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