MY PITCHFORK
MY PITCHFORK:
1. OH KENSINGTON 04:
Never wanted to be like that be the one holding the memory book and waiting for signatures be the one with the pitchfork and the spade waiting for Spring the one building bookcases for books which never come NEVER wanted to sing a’capella in an orchestra of sound never wanted to walk when riding would do never sought to be the stevedore with the jaunt black cap or the watchman holding lanterns as each one burns down never wanted to sketch in a painter’s color class never sought the robin or the trout NEVER wished to wise up and be the best man in the class NEVER sought the kerosene when all they sold was gas never washed the paint board in turpentine or gum never learned to mumble when the words just wouldn’t come never rinsed the sailboat in a sea of sky-blue water never carried burdens never wanted nothing never sought forgiveness easy payments or reduction NEVER called a saint down from his perch on high never cursed a Goddess never learned to lie and the long and twisty road I rode I learned from every curve first calling it conjecture then steaming in a rave never read the fine print with scheduled arrival times never danced for dollars never cried for dimes never sat back listening for the turtle dove or jay never washed shut windows NEVER said OK - and so slack-jawed that a Jimmy with a cavern at the edge could take a long-lost waller to the miller in the town and stop along the baseball tracks and whistle down a freighter or lob stones at passing churches and check up on them LATER than anything else I wouldn’t linger near too long the water’s edge where the fright-men buy baloney and the oilers jump the ledge and turkey doves and crane-men shoot from hollers in the trees and look down at miasma and true sickness and disease where doctors call in nurses and the sutures are unnerved on mornings after horseback and the dredge of history’s urge and toil means circumference in the math-man’s filthy room while in scabbards ten wild fencers throw bayonets on through the gloom of distaff and collection and thirty wild men who’ve all come up from something and will end up there again wear wash buckets from Fourteenth Street and come around the legend’s curve while rain comes down in buckets and comic horses herd along the bozo-blank of landscapes written in by Willy Drayer and Ted Stevens and the dreadlocks call the uncle up for Mayor and the tony rathered police-chief douses fires with a laugh and they stripe the lines ‘cross Main Street and cancel out the yellow glass where amber waves of grain are seen subscribing to the Post while rabid hounds of circumstance grow tired and at fault three turkeys land between two yards and talk among themselves with ribald raps of weary jokes and late-lamented hopes and harbingers of westerly along the nasty touch bring serpent tails and pestilence grown furry and as such we listen to laments sung in a very minor key of horsemen and of barnyards and Lancelots for free who fly to steady mansions piled high atop the sky and wonder willy-nilly if the reason’s worth the try but WHO KNOWS WHEN THE SANDS WILL STOP and who imagines less and forty sailors dreary drunk curse at the sea and YES for just this once they’ve walked on water whether celebrated high or not they all return like chieftains to engather what they’ve got and some will learn by doing while the ones who can’t learn teach and they line the shelves up everywhere but put them OH JUST out of reach - until MY FURRY FRIEND the end becomes the means AND WE ALL WALK DOWN TO STARBOARD to see if it’s really what it seems.
2. MANAGED TO CLOSE IT:
Was a Willy it was Bill we sat around all day until the moment before the saddle when the journal was opened and before us arose the markers thrown from behind and the rattle – so soon to sing – became our wishes and an old picture book with the fawn and the swishes had blown into town raging fire and light as everything echoed so far in the night which came without warning like some Harley in flight or a low-measured scooter with an arrow-man’s kite and standing to speak the five-meter’s mentor decided to say what he felt about his situation alone as the band lounged on stage and three men with bad masks arrived from some coast and took us to task for occluding the warning or mining the mint and ten dollar homers waved hardly at most or ten to twenty – the betting man’s odds – decided to interview anyone and the bards from Orion kept staring us down and over it rattled and sooner the sound but just as TOGETHER we’d all thought all the same the grounded town-manners left men in the rain and two teams from Hell one of football and grit stood standing by landings and took quite a bit of our coaxing to dance away from the well where the water flowed sweet and as clear as a bell was the sound of some braying by the factory-head who loaded three Chapman’s and two sheep he called ‘dead’ but they turned in a whistle and broadened the hope for Gabriel’s harness and Newton’s fair scope and I leapt from some bed to see ‘what was the matter’ and turned in my bungle to read Schulman Van Atta (he was a guy from Elmira who sold yellow old cars) and Mark Twain’s delusions sounded better than gold "light up that cigar boys and let’s watch the end for no sooner has that come then ended they send and if you’d like that then Reverend Beecher instead can lend you an office to wear unbestowed and twelve slaves all named Dinker are upcoming swift from the last of monkeys and one final twist on some Underground Railroad of raiment and light - Merry Living to All and TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT!" yet they knew he’d demented and lost every sense this Clemens’s frustration just sat on some fence ‘round a pasture of silver and ten-tons of hay which no matter the cost was more than we’d pay so the whistle had started and three greasy men came along from the meadow to whisper the glen but before any spikes or small change were thrown down it was only a missile and some tiny clown hiding hands under garments and touching all men whether holy or profane it left us to mend and they’d opened some book – as I said at the start – but MANAGED TO CLOSE IT before it got dark.
3. A VAST OTHER OLD DAY:
Something not happy made Gretle leave home and her old smothered boyfriend was left quite alone with two mastiffs in bloom and three links to Almeda but nothing no longer than Saint James Theater could lift the side-wacket on the green lawn of doubt and remonstrance found wanting was cast out and out as we walked hard to linger on the edges of town and the seascape kept changing each time we looked down but booty frustrated was cast out to dry where the fine chiseled features of U.S.Grant lined the sky and the crowd that passed idle was left there a’chatting about the old space-lawn mall that they’d heard was still batting with another one Grant this one W. T. fighting to outbattle old Woolworth in the ancient re-writing of John Cash Penny and all of his men who wrote on that easel with a quill tipped pen but no reason allotted could skate from the fray while we simply discussed a vast other old day.
4. HARP-EYED THE FERRY MATTER:
Then there were TWO soldiers and in hats were they and wearing stockings green and blue and they stood straight and they wandered not and kept a face forward fort-wise weary but born to no manor they kept no allegiance and before too long the swords were drawn the tuner was payed twice and over again once to tune and once to just listen HARP-EYED THE FERRY MATTER flowed gently sweet and scattered and rabbits wizened and squirrels forlorn and geese and swans and bears and hens in fact EVERYTHING of the King’s estate came forth to greet the newer date for we’d forgotten already to go and had stayed too long by the old window looking out at the piercing eights and other cars streaming by the gates and doors and no steamer trunk for anywhere else had been unpacked except the twelve APOSTLES they were who couldn’t stay YET I heard them say : "what is up with us ? what self-image is this ? and what do men see when they look at us thus" and the stranger responded by saying : "if it ain’t the Real McCoy it ain’t nothing plus if you’re not gonna’ stay no one’s coming your way and not a soul of you twelve would we miss" and then Red the big one known as Judas to some turned and spoke to the crowd and said : "some there are who claim to know and others there are who seem and still others who know enough to claim to seem but my own idea is it’s all this dream where I twist and turn and some silver I earn by turning in good friend Jeez the one who eats cheese to the nails on the tree and he withers and fades and declaims at the last ‘this ain’t a good game I feel forsaken and shamed but suffer the somethings to come to me’ and by that balderdash it seems a great church was gleaned AND WE’VE STILL GOT THE MONEY we’ve keened" and then I saw he bowed down to the road and the next thing I knew he was hanging there DEAD and ‘sorrowful justification’ the newspapers read but it was all enough to do in the sheriff with the price on his head.
5. INNER PEACE:
I went to the haberdasher’s house in the rain and walked right through the door’s glass pane hoping to hurt the one who came back from Aruba with much to gain - the swiddle the swaddle the effervescent surge and they started speaking near me of oil and birds and the tanker which crashed and those tides that surged but the last amalgamation I’d ever heard was one the one where the wind earns points for taking a turn and the one guy with the bladder stared and said : "we’re oilmen son and just as soon instead of talking be hard at work at some rig some dolly some huge piece of earth and it’s out upon the sea where the real money’s made don’t let them fool you no matter what’s heard FOR HERE on the land only small people dwell" and (just like a chorus they sang) ‘THEY CAN ALL GO TO HELL!’ but nearing the end of some Chapter Fourteen the drinkmaster came by with a lovely young teen – some able bar-girl from the Bay of Fundy and I thought to myself ‘perhaps this is my day’ but it wasn’t it couldn’t be for her mom was along – she was ninety-two and sang for a song – but one look at her and I lost all my lunch but regained it quickly on one brand new hunch so I began speaking in tongues and put one down her throat and luscious as ever the daughter was smote and the next thing I noticed AS I RAN PAST THE SWAMP was the measure of madness that grew and the pomp that so many girls seem to just love to see – the roses the gowns the candles and me – but nothing was harder than ten peas in a pod ‘INNER PEACE’ someone yelled so I jammed her real hard.
6. DEATH NEARING:
Dazzling in a winning way they swarmed the cafeteria counter and asked a million questions and posed for photos and sat down together and hands met hands and all things jammed and merged and maneuvered in a single way and the only thing left at the wavering pines was the whispering patron of some ancient lines written long ago in a reverie fine - with pebbles in mouth and beach-fronted twine Demosthenes-style enjoined and consigned to the junk-heap of olden times’ history and olden times’ stories and other days' glories but for whatsoever matter it may have occurred no one ended caring and the story seem to veer until VOILA! we found ourselves walking on ice at some Lake Surprise in the midst of great woods where cars parked in three’s and horses walked by and the grand deserted village turned over itself ‘reading history like this never before’ yet even then I’d wished I was gone and much more instead at the water-wheel I sat and watched things pass along and listened to the trees and their unerring song which whispering again to me sure seemed to say : "we’ve got so far to go and we’ve just left today and the narrow wagons of time in whatever disguise shall stay near us and dog us and twist these fair days yet STAY WITH US SIR oh fine gentleman man we are lonely and sad and throughout this fair land we find there’s a need for good company’s parted and we’re again left alone and seem broken-hearted" so if the water I thought and trees like that talked than who am I to ignore what I’d sensed or I’d thought and I rose up then slowly and bowed to the sky and touched with both hands the tree to my eye and for certain that I was alone and unseen I lifted the cap of the evergreen scene and realized my motives had nothing to do with foraging for love or viewing the zoo of all human-kind as they stumbled and yelped and I took to my glory instead the great belt above me of starlight and moon and walked through the sky as steady as soon and months may have passed while I lived in those woods though there’s nothing I know or recall if I could and hunger had taken its great raging toll like some Van Winkle boy back to this present I stole and said to anyone’s ears who may have been hearing "THIS is my life and this is my bearing" and I took me a room in the Excel Hotel and settled down in comfort and slept ‘till DEATH NEARING.
7. THE MARRIAGE TAX:
I wanted a place to ‘hide in’ the lady said "there's a place fur elise on Beethoven Street" I said "I’ll take it if it isn’t too cheap and I’ve got nasty habits and I’m not very clean so call me tomorrow IF YOU THINK that you mean I can have it for now and I’ll take it next Thursday and by the way Lady Day you’ve a glamorous sheen and I’d wonder to love you if you’d move away but perhaps since perdition you’re constant you’ll stay" and with that she alighted from far-none-the-distance and said "listen sonny it's not that I’m nasty or narrow of habit it’s just that I’m busy and can’t take the last bit about all my glamour I’ve nails and nice clothing and fuck like a cat but my number’s not up which should mean all of that but I’d give you the place if it wasn’t for Daddy who sits around much and looks really ratty but if you push him aside and don’t take to drinking maybe we all can live there NOW THAT’S what I’m thinking" and we shook tender hands by the lamppost which leaned and she walked quick away towards the car and the carriage and two doors were just closing and some animal screamed but it wasn’t lethargic instead it was mean but whatever was moving was moving for nothing for the place was an uproar and called for its mutton and the paper I read was so simple in reading and it simply listed names from Portsmouth to Reading and places I’d been but never returned on Gloucester on Salem and Harvard and Main down Broad Street to Market and back all the same and the rooms I was in I just noticed right now are painted steel blue and stink like a cow but the Skyway Café beneath which I’m living is crowded at noon and dead by eleven with Portuguese girls who’d just as soon stroke then get on their backs or talk about folks whom they met in church or at the new social center for Catholics and are like this ‘THEY EAT THE PLACENTA’ I’ve even heard that on the side by the fences with the young boys for priests and the other intentions and the five-dollar brawn is as broad as they get but the marrow is thicker in bones they’ve not yet so there’s lots of new work to be keeping us busy by the old hat that sings and the family chimney by the hearth with the window and two golden arches where the fat babies rise and repair with great starches the military brass taking place in new marches and fabulous battles and air-strike anarchics and the next thing I knew the first lady returned the one with the rooms that Beethoven had earned and she again sat me down but now climbed on my face and said "here are your dollars now this is the place and either way you approach it you can have for free now just shut your big mouth and have a great lick of me" and with no further ado or no no more to be said I took the three rooms and took her PROMPTLY to bed and lived for a while on Beethoven Street as you probably have heard with two dogs and no meat but I’ve never regretted anything that I’ve done – and this is my story and here is our son!
-------
1. OH KENSINGTON 04:
Never wanted to be like that be the one holding the memory book and waiting for signatures be the one with the pitchfork and the spade waiting for Spring the one building bookcases for books which never come NEVER wanted to sing a’capella in an orchestra of sound never wanted to walk when riding would do never sought to be the stevedore with the jaunt black cap or the watchman holding lanterns as each one burns down never wanted to sketch in a painter’s color class never sought the robin or the trout NEVER wished to wise up and be the best man in the class NEVER sought the kerosene when all they sold was gas never washed the paint board in turpentine or gum never learned to mumble when the words just wouldn’t come never rinsed the sailboat in a sea of sky-blue water never carried burdens never wanted nothing never sought forgiveness easy payments or reduction NEVER called a saint down from his perch on high never cursed a Goddess never learned to lie and the long and twisty road I rode I learned from every curve first calling it conjecture then steaming in a rave never read the fine print with scheduled arrival times never danced for dollars never cried for dimes never sat back listening for the turtle dove or jay never washed shut windows NEVER said OK - and so slack-jawed that a Jimmy with a cavern at the edge could take a long-lost waller to the miller in the town and stop along the baseball tracks and whistle down a freighter or lob stones at passing churches and check up on them LATER than anything else I wouldn’t linger near too long the water’s edge where the fright-men buy baloney and the oilers jump the ledge and turkey doves and crane-men shoot from hollers in the trees and look down at miasma and true sickness and disease where doctors call in nurses and the sutures are unnerved on mornings after horseback and the dredge of history’s urge and toil means circumference in the math-man’s filthy room while in scabbards ten wild fencers throw bayonets on through the gloom of distaff and collection and thirty wild men who’ve all come up from something and will end up there again wear wash buckets from Fourteenth Street and come around the legend’s curve while rain comes down in buckets and comic horses herd along the bozo-blank of landscapes written in by Willy Drayer and Ted Stevens and the dreadlocks call the uncle up for Mayor and the tony rathered police-chief douses fires with a laugh and they stripe the lines ‘cross Main Street and cancel out the yellow glass where amber waves of grain are seen subscribing to the Post while rabid hounds of circumstance grow tired and at fault three turkeys land between two yards and talk among themselves with ribald raps of weary jokes and late-lamented hopes and harbingers of westerly along the nasty touch bring serpent tails and pestilence grown furry and as such we listen to laments sung in a very minor key of horsemen and of barnyards and Lancelots for free who fly to steady mansions piled high atop the sky and wonder willy-nilly if the reason’s worth the try but WHO KNOWS WHEN THE SANDS WILL STOP and who imagines less and forty sailors dreary drunk curse at the sea and YES for just this once they’ve walked on water whether celebrated high or not they all return like chieftains to engather what they’ve got and some will learn by doing while the ones who can’t learn teach and they line the shelves up everywhere but put them OH JUST out of reach - until MY FURRY FRIEND the end becomes the means AND WE ALL WALK DOWN TO STARBOARD to see if it’s really what it seems.
2. MANAGED TO CLOSE IT:
Was a Willy it was Bill we sat around all day until the moment before the saddle when the journal was opened and before us arose the markers thrown from behind and the rattle – so soon to sing – became our wishes and an old picture book with the fawn and the swishes had blown into town raging fire and light as everything echoed so far in the night which came without warning like some Harley in flight or a low-measured scooter with an arrow-man’s kite and standing to speak the five-meter’s mentor decided to say what he felt about his situation alone as the band lounged on stage and three men with bad masks arrived from some coast and took us to task for occluding the warning or mining the mint and ten dollar homers waved hardly at most or ten to twenty – the betting man’s odds – decided to interview anyone and the bards from Orion kept staring us down and over it rattled and sooner the sound but just as TOGETHER we’d all thought all the same the grounded town-manners left men in the rain and two teams from Hell one of football and grit stood standing by landings and took quite a bit of our coaxing to dance away from the well where the water flowed sweet and as clear as a bell was the sound of some braying by the factory-head who loaded three Chapman’s and two sheep he called ‘dead’ but they turned in a whistle and broadened the hope for Gabriel’s harness and Newton’s fair scope and I leapt from some bed to see ‘what was the matter’ and turned in my bungle to read Schulman Van Atta (he was a guy from Elmira who sold yellow old cars) and Mark Twain’s delusions sounded better than gold "light up that cigar boys and let’s watch the end for no sooner has that come then ended they send and if you’d like that then Reverend Beecher instead can lend you an office to wear unbestowed and twelve slaves all named Dinker are upcoming swift from the last of monkeys and one final twist on some Underground Railroad of raiment and light - Merry Living to All and TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT!" yet they knew he’d demented and lost every sense this Clemens’s frustration just sat on some fence ‘round a pasture of silver and ten-tons of hay which no matter the cost was more than we’d pay so the whistle had started and three greasy men came along from the meadow to whisper the glen but before any spikes or small change were thrown down it was only a missile and some tiny clown hiding hands under garments and touching all men whether holy or profane it left us to mend and they’d opened some book – as I said at the start – but MANAGED TO CLOSE IT before it got dark.
3. A VAST OTHER OLD DAY:
Something not happy made Gretle leave home and her old smothered boyfriend was left quite alone with two mastiffs in bloom and three links to Almeda but nothing no longer than Saint James Theater could lift the side-wacket on the green lawn of doubt and remonstrance found wanting was cast out and out as we walked hard to linger on the edges of town and the seascape kept changing each time we looked down but booty frustrated was cast out to dry where the fine chiseled features of U.S.Grant lined the sky and the crowd that passed idle was left there a’chatting about the old space-lawn mall that they’d heard was still batting with another one Grant this one W. T. fighting to outbattle old Woolworth in the ancient re-writing of John Cash Penny and all of his men who wrote on that easel with a quill tipped pen but no reason allotted could skate from the fray while we simply discussed a vast other old day.
4. HARP-EYED THE FERRY MATTER:
Then there were TWO soldiers and in hats were they and wearing stockings green and blue and they stood straight and they wandered not and kept a face forward fort-wise weary but born to no manor they kept no allegiance and before too long the swords were drawn the tuner was payed twice and over again once to tune and once to just listen HARP-EYED THE FERRY MATTER flowed gently sweet and scattered and rabbits wizened and squirrels forlorn and geese and swans and bears and hens in fact EVERYTHING of the King’s estate came forth to greet the newer date for we’d forgotten already to go and had stayed too long by the old window looking out at the piercing eights and other cars streaming by the gates and doors and no steamer trunk for anywhere else had been unpacked except the twelve APOSTLES they were who couldn’t stay YET I heard them say : "what is up with us ? what self-image is this ? and what do men see when they look at us thus" and the stranger responded by saying : "if it ain’t the Real McCoy it ain’t nothing plus if you’re not gonna’ stay no one’s coming your way and not a soul of you twelve would we miss" and then Red the big one known as Judas to some turned and spoke to the crowd and said : "some there are who claim to know and others there are who seem and still others who know enough to claim to seem but my own idea is it’s all this dream where I twist and turn and some silver I earn by turning in good friend Jeez the one who eats cheese to the nails on the tree and he withers and fades and declaims at the last ‘this ain’t a good game I feel forsaken and shamed but suffer the somethings to come to me’ and by that balderdash it seems a great church was gleaned AND WE’VE STILL GOT THE MONEY we’ve keened" and then I saw he bowed down to the road and the next thing I knew he was hanging there DEAD and ‘sorrowful justification’ the newspapers read but it was all enough to do in the sheriff with the price on his head.
5. INNER PEACE:
I went to the haberdasher’s house in the rain and walked right through the door’s glass pane hoping to hurt the one who came back from Aruba with much to gain - the swiddle the swaddle the effervescent surge and they started speaking near me of oil and birds and the tanker which crashed and those tides that surged but the last amalgamation I’d ever heard was one the one where the wind earns points for taking a turn and the one guy with the bladder stared and said : "we’re oilmen son and just as soon instead of talking be hard at work at some rig some dolly some huge piece of earth and it’s out upon the sea where the real money’s made don’t let them fool you no matter what’s heard FOR HERE on the land only small people dwell" and (just like a chorus they sang) ‘THEY CAN ALL GO TO HELL!’ but nearing the end of some Chapter Fourteen the drinkmaster came by with a lovely young teen – some able bar-girl from the Bay of Fundy and I thought to myself ‘perhaps this is my day’ but it wasn’t it couldn’t be for her mom was along – she was ninety-two and sang for a song – but one look at her and I lost all my lunch but regained it quickly on one brand new hunch so I began speaking in tongues and put one down her throat and luscious as ever the daughter was smote and the next thing I noticed AS I RAN PAST THE SWAMP was the measure of madness that grew and the pomp that so many girls seem to just love to see – the roses the gowns the candles and me – but nothing was harder than ten peas in a pod ‘INNER PEACE’ someone yelled so I jammed her real hard.
6. DEATH NEARING:
Dazzling in a winning way they swarmed the cafeteria counter and asked a million questions and posed for photos and sat down together and hands met hands and all things jammed and merged and maneuvered in a single way and the only thing left at the wavering pines was the whispering patron of some ancient lines written long ago in a reverie fine - with pebbles in mouth and beach-fronted twine Demosthenes-style enjoined and consigned to the junk-heap of olden times’ history and olden times’ stories and other days' glories but for whatsoever matter it may have occurred no one ended caring and the story seem to veer until VOILA! we found ourselves walking on ice at some Lake Surprise in the midst of great woods where cars parked in three’s and horses walked by and the grand deserted village turned over itself ‘reading history like this never before’ yet even then I’d wished I was gone and much more instead at the water-wheel I sat and watched things pass along and listened to the trees and their unerring song which whispering again to me sure seemed to say : "we’ve got so far to go and we’ve just left today and the narrow wagons of time in whatever disguise shall stay near us and dog us and twist these fair days yet STAY WITH US SIR oh fine gentleman man we are lonely and sad and throughout this fair land we find there’s a need for good company’s parted and we’re again left alone and seem broken-hearted" so if the water I thought and trees like that talked than who am I to ignore what I’d sensed or I’d thought and I rose up then slowly and bowed to the sky and touched with both hands the tree to my eye and for certain that I was alone and unseen I lifted the cap of the evergreen scene and realized my motives had nothing to do with foraging for love or viewing the zoo of all human-kind as they stumbled and yelped and I took to my glory instead the great belt above me of starlight and moon and walked through the sky as steady as soon and months may have passed while I lived in those woods though there’s nothing I know or recall if I could and hunger had taken its great raging toll like some Van Winkle boy back to this present I stole and said to anyone’s ears who may have been hearing "THIS is my life and this is my bearing" and I took me a room in the Excel Hotel and settled down in comfort and slept ‘till DEATH NEARING.
7. THE MARRIAGE TAX:
I wanted a place to ‘hide in’ the lady said "there's a place fur elise on Beethoven Street" I said "I’ll take it if it isn’t too cheap and I’ve got nasty habits and I’m not very clean so call me tomorrow IF YOU THINK that you mean I can have it for now and I’ll take it next Thursday and by the way Lady Day you’ve a glamorous sheen and I’d wonder to love you if you’d move away but perhaps since perdition you’re constant you’ll stay" and with that she alighted from far-none-the-distance and said "listen sonny it's not that I’m nasty or narrow of habit it’s just that I’m busy and can’t take the last bit about all my glamour I’ve nails and nice clothing and fuck like a cat but my number’s not up which should mean all of that but I’d give you the place if it wasn’t for Daddy who sits around much and looks really ratty but if you push him aside and don’t take to drinking maybe we all can live there NOW THAT’S what I’m thinking" and we shook tender hands by the lamppost which leaned and she walked quick away towards the car and the carriage and two doors were just closing and some animal screamed but it wasn’t lethargic instead it was mean but whatever was moving was moving for nothing for the place was an uproar and called for its mutton and the paper I read was so simple in reading and it simply listed names from Portsmouth to Reading and places I’d been but never returned on Gloucester on Salem and Harvard and Main down Broad Street to Market and back all the same and the rooms I was in I just noticed right now are painted steel blue and stink like a cow but the Skyway Café beneath which I’m living is crowded at noon and dead by eleven with Portuguese girls who’d just as soon stroke then get on their backs or talk about folks whom they met in church or at the new social center for Catholics and are like this ‘THEY EAT THE PLACENTA’ I’ve even heard that on the side by the fences with the young boys for priests and the other intentions and the five-dollar brawn is as broad as they get but the marrow is thicker in bones they’ve not yet so there’s lots of new work to be keeping us busy by the old hat that sings and the family chimney by the hearth with the window and two golden arches where the fat babies rise and repair with great starches the military brass taking place in new marches and fabulous battles and air-strike anarchics and the next thing I knew the first lady returned the one with the rooms that Beethoven had earned and she again sat me down but now climbed on my face and said "here are your dollars now this is the place and either way you approach it you can have for free now just shut your big mouth and have a great lick of me" and with no further ado or no no more to be said I took the three rooms and took her PROMPTLY to bed and lived for a while on Beethoven Street as you probably have heard with two dogs and no meat but I’ve never regretted anything that I’ve done – and this is my story and here is our son!
-------
posted by gary j. introne at 3:10 PM
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