Tag Archives: anthropology

from the golden arch of arse

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monkey all as me

before the meteor fell,

eat improvised food

slain in the boudoir

fresh from satin

and moist yesterday,

lacerations and smiles

hands bridge the expanse,

farewell to pelt

hello carnal alarm,

argue through closed eyes

i am the ape

blood and sensation

teeth splitting fruit

as i  would breathe

through your flesh,

i am the cause of your scream

anthropology has it’s secrets

that is me,

pulse and tongues

long shadows in the mirror

i will no longer

take to the branches,

i have hysteria

in my feet,

consumed by the body

escape,

i live in infecting your purity

with my clouds

for

i am the ape

dverselogo

regions of desertion

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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.