Thus I have heard Bodhisattva of encompassing sound , look out for those poor suckers on planet earth , and Bodhisattva of embracing wisdom said , you mean those fuckers down there in Hollywood land? Yeah those Polanski, Manson, Charlton Heston fuckheads who read Bukowski while drinking their savignon blanc trying to be Johnny Depp […]
Down and out at the Sacred Grounds Cafe San Francisco reading from my book clouds on hanger street
‘‘Twas gang out of Melbourne Cup three , four years ago. Guy & gals. I hairy eyebrow beast. Arm on shoulder poet , next to him , poet owner of Collected Works, next to him musician and off course the gals at the Stingo hotel sounds like a William Styron novel.
Early morning silence is not like other parts of the day. They say in space there is no sound just deathly silence one hundred percent pure like drinking a river from its source. Crystal clear without contamination. I lived up in the high country. I would rise around the time of this writing, open my […]
It’s time to wake up to find the courage to speak up to rage. to go nuts, to speak truths, to deny the dark entity of Nazism , to deny the darkness of lies that tell you love is hate, and that anger is the rage of a beautiful flower, it’s time to say fuck […]
The soul is the home of my innocent child yet fully formed alive with wonder , everything is magical, the morning, the day , the night. That first train ride, the first taste of ice cream, everything shining in its newness. One night , thirty one years ago, I was resting on my bed, not […]
I think of you continually how many years since I held Mayakovsky in my hand at the bookshop by the river two fragile sparrows you with your seven thousand books that you lay down on at night Oh how lucky was Rimbaud and Dylan Thomas, you were Caitlin, a velvet beauty , you could have […]
I was an old dog chasing a beautiful young dove. She had Frida Kahlo bloodlines, mine were disjointed, part Scottish, Jewish, part crazy bastard. She was a writer . She wanted to be another Pessoa. I could dig that. She was a shaman . They have a word for it over there but I’ve forgotten. […]
I rattled off poems in Cafe Bazzare feeling wacked out on one too many beers I was somewhere on California Street San Francisco in a bar before the read. Boys were playing pool and baseball was being played out on the big screen, the 49’s against someone or other. A woman of my vintage was […]
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