THURSDAY THOUGHT

ONCE UPON A TIME......all these journals i am going through...for what ...to tell my story, to find others who are just as insane as i and still can only find brief moments of happiness in any idea of the future..is it worth it to continue writing...this

all but the greatness of green earths....

here and there in floating galaxies

spilt lamps of burning jazz in the universe of thursday evenings

screams and cries of wild eyes and chattering teeth -

snare drums and trumpets.

phone calls travelling long distance to far away brothers

in cities of rain and tombs..

sexed images and dreams of lips rolled up in speed coated cigarettes..

loud interruptions of intelligent radio disc jockeys ..

                 tonight i think of the humbling kiss of a brunnette

                 the lingering scent of her long hair .. the fact that it is distracting me from my studies  

                  on buddhism

                 i am brought to the pulpit of summer evenings when i am a star looking for love

so far beneath and so far above.

 

                 i am walking crooked paths  to the center of a woman

taunting and teasing

                 caressing with touch and the shimmer of my excited eyes

it is like walking with gods

                    feeling the warmth of another's bodice

 

and i plan to stay up all night

longing to kiss all of you..

to share moments with you

waiting for one of us to move and dare the intrigue of one evening alone in the light of sweet -

nakedness,

the tickle of innocence turned passion....

 

my first noble truth is the want of kiss

my second is the glow of flesh

my third is the slide of hips

my fourth is the music box of your breath as we sleep together in tranquilty

Author's Note

there are three segments that are deleted as this is the poetry reading version....when i was concerned for what the audience needed to hear so that they would snap fingers, and they did...the last time i heard that it was here in nyc....not far from grand central...the poems i read there are lost...but i think mark has them somwhere....but to be applauded....in nyc. where my heroes wrote. . .
to think of a kansas boy....for a second.....reading in manhattan....on a stage....but alas - it was to a group of actors....and a few writers better than i will ever be.

Reviews

[gibbonj]

I must profess that, in the throes of remeberance, you read a sonorous purling truth. The canopy of all your women either alive and well, or fictious and ethereal covers any sleepily traveled memory.