IN THE BLOOD COVERAGE
A Carnival around the body
of a young buffalo,
cameras snapping as the spirit screams
in fright in pain
the best shots are when the body
lays like rubber
and the neck drips red
oh bread and butter
next comes the sweet young goat
the door of the temple is burnt scarlet with blood
Kali energy there for real
This young buck
in the face of that door
gets a screaming hard-on
a pounding inside his hard cock is pounding
of adrenalin and kundalini
2 realms at once making love
give this goat supreme majestic energy
and at that minute its throat is cut
the blood splashing against the door frame
a useless figure flopping on the concrete
steel hard knife cutting bone
primordial gallow with guillotine
a pain so cold
the head removed and laid on the doorstep
long seconds ago it was already accepted by the
union and the added power of death
My mala snaps in my hands
beads bouncing into pieces of diamond
in the sunlight
my mantra screams onto
crunching of bone
my own death fantastic!
The mouth of the goat
showing teeth that smile
out of puckered lips
that kiss at the Yum
(lips of Kali)
BUYING A WALKING STICK
Sir, I would like to buy a pilgrim's stick,
and being that I am not a tourist, I
cannot pay a tourist's price.
So sir, this is the truth of my situation:
If you can lower your price to a pilgrim's
price, I may buy a stick that I will keep
unto death or until that parting of the stick
and my life.
I also must tell you that I would like a stick to be
one of my choice. Not one a tourist would place
above the fireplace or with the umbrellas.
I need a sturdy stick, one that will help me
pull myself up a hill and through a creak,
one that will hold me up on the top
or on the other side.
So sir, you see my position, and the position
With perhaps a little give and take, maybe we can
Make a trade?
Some stick grown, picked and made.
Some money made and paid.
And in some far off time a tale to tell as the stick
Is passed down.
NOVEMBER 7th Scorpion
I have a lot
of fear of death
fear of burning up the life
in pursuit of the real
From a birth just before winter
I find myself still happening
but the life breath grasped
has to shorten with each gasp
And i fear before
the simple dynamo of energy
is explored to its source
i will have blundered too many time
In the web of the status quo
Today I am in my environment
moist mushroom rotting trees
a waterfall yellow leaves
an aura of pink
to breathe in.
November late Oct. highly emotional
just before everything dies
at my age
I feel like November
my friends feel like November
we like the color
but we want to die to it all
and become eternal.