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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2005-11-25 | [Acest text ar trebui citit în english] | Înscris în bibliotecă de Ionescu Bogdan
The 1st electric wildness came
over the people on sweet Friday. Sweat was in the air. The channel beamed, token of power. Incense brewed darkly. Who could tell them that here it would end? One school bus crashed w/ a train. This was the Crossroads. Mercury stained. I couldn't get out of my seat. The road was littered w/ dead jitterbugs. Help, we'll be late for class. The secret flurry of rumor marched over the yard & pinned us unwittingly Mt. fever. A girl stripped naked on the base of the flagpole. In the restrooms all was cool & silent w/ the salt-green of latrines. Blankets were needed. Ropes fluttered. Smiles flattered & haunted. Lockers pried open & secrets discovered. Ah sweet music. Wild sounds in the night Angel siren voices. The baying of great hounds. Cars screaming thru gears & shrieks on the wild road Where the tires skip & slide into dangerous curves. Favorite corners. Cheerleaders raped in summer buildings. Holding hands & bopping toward Sunday. Those lean sweet desperate hours. Time searched the hallways for a mind. Hands kept time. The climate altered like a visible dance. Night-time women. Wondrous sacraments of doubt Sprang sullen in bursts of fear & guilt in the womb's pit hole below The belt of the beast Worship w/ words, w/ sounds, hands, all joyful playful & obscene-in the insane infant. Old men worship w/ long noses, old soulful eyes. Young girls worship, exotic, indian, w/ robes who make us feel foolish for acting w/ our eyes. Lost in the vanity of the senses which got us where we are. Children worship but seldom act at it. Who needs temples & couches & T.V. We can do it on a sunny floor w/ friends & make any sound or movement that comes. Roll on our backs screaming w/ mirth glad in the guilt of our madness. Better to be cool in our worship & gain the respect of the ancient & wise wearing those robes. They know the secret of mind-change reality. "Have you ever seen God?" -a mandala. A symmetrical angel. Felt? yes. Fucking. The Sun. Heard? Music. Voices. Touched? an animal. your hand. Tasted? Rare meat, corn, water, & wine. An angel runs Thru the sudden light Thru the room A ghost precedes us A shadow follows us And each time we stop We fall No one thought up being; he who thinks he has Step forward Shrill demented sparrows bark The sun into being. They rule dawn's kingdom. The cars- a rising chorus- Then workmen's songs & hammers The children of the schoolyard, a hundred high voices, complete the orchestration "In that year there was an intense visitation of energy. I left school & went down to the beach to live. I slept on a roof At night the moon became a woman's face. I met the Spirit of Music." An appearance of the devil on a Venice canal. Running, I saw a Satan or Satyr, moving beside me, a fleshy shadow of my secret mind. Running, Knowing. The day I left the beach A hairy Satyr running behind & a little to the right. In the holy solipsism of the young Now I can't walk thru a city street w/out eying each single pedestrian. I feel their vibes thru my skin, the hair on my neck -it rises.
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