- Calling calling into the reservoir of life
- Incantations I make, Incantations I call
- Incantations that play me like a wire whistled by the wind.
- Hard long thin every part of me I joyfully surrender to the
song,
- A grief song I joyously sing assuaging my neighbor's heart
in China;
- Incantations I make for my song
- For the sake of my song that plays me as I must rhythmically
dazzle in the night of all our minds,
- Against black I dazzle
- Against hate whistle wire orchestrate a drumming of the heart.
-
- Something to chant, I want
- Something to beat again on natives drums
- Something to sing for every man in the street
- Reach every lonely 20-watt lite-bulb of a heart
- closeted in any dark shack,
- The power system, I want to turn on
- The great dynamos turn on
- The great feeling systems relocate
- The forgotten man raise on high like a soul
- hoisted out of an ape carcass
- Come screaming raging into the lite of day
- One stem of a new flower.
-
- All those who fell not, I want, who see not, I want
- The thick-skinned Cain I want
- The murderers who reap the whirlwind fleeing before the thunder.
- My family is unhappy, there is no peace in my land,
- And cautious men sing cautiously a song proposing caution
- Till Cain, blackened by many suns, kills again in blind fury,
- and kills again and again.
-
- Who will sing for Cain?
- Who will sing for the shunned man?
- His face is hideous, the mark on his forehead is hideous
- Who will sing for him?
Who will die for him?
- Come to me, do not hesitate, I will feed you
- Come to me, or to me, or to me.
- These I want to whom I am more than to any of the rest,
- I loaf and invite them to feed upon my soul.
- This is the covenant of the new testament which is made for
you
- and for many.
-
- My family is unhappy, there is not peace in my land
- Weakly I retreat to the fortress of my imagination,
- I fix my sights on some paleolithic factory
- of grim smokestack battlements
- With a spectroscope I note the exact shade of the dull cold
steel grey of the sky
- And determine whether there is any lead in it.
- I catalogue polluted rivers,
- And hold the image of fender-twisted toppling rusting car-huld
- scrapyard happenings before your eyes.
- The only antidote to this world will be violent and blasting
beautiful,
- No mincing poet of calm capacities but rather big reserve
of
- hurricane and ocean.
- But words only, blasting , ideas blasting.
-
- Calling calling into the reservoir of life
- Incantations I make, Incantations I call
- Incantations that play me like a wire whistled by the wind.
-
- Fire and ice, I want
- The perpetual flux, I want,
- The great rushing, mixing of the poles, I want,
- All things co-mingled in the dust, I want,
- The mixing of the East and West, I want,
- The mixing of the high and low, I want,
- All things co-mingled for the morning sun
- To start anew.
-
- All this in spite of myself I want
- The cup is bitter but it will not pass, not now,
- The force of life that governs all, now calls
- To break the static stagnant mold, so old
- To witness coitus of the universe, unfold --
- miscegenation of the stars
- The backed up waters of the gods untold,
- Will break to smithereens all our dikes, and levees,
- and our hearts so cold.
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