Venice Beach sunset
Down by the soft sea where the gull waits
For the tide to bring to shore tiny titbits
The sun is going down framed by tall palms
The only sound, the roar of the advancing waves.
All along the line of the seashore shadowy joggers
Go through their evening slow unwinding run
Tuning into the end of another sun filled day
Out to sea, a dolphin upends its flash of tail.
"Look out there!" the woman cries, just released from jail
Taking in the sights of the long gone natural world
"Watch the tide doesn't get those shiny shoes."
She is gone, away into the warm sunset, gently jogging along.
Back off the beach the forensic squad take photos
The LAPD woman has seen death's dark shifts
A gun barrel is her reaction to any sudden surprise
The endless depth of her eyes shows past terrors.
A man with one arm propells himself on his skate board
He has no legs either but sings heartily to the setting sun
In the men's room a man sits face down on his throne
No doors here to interrupt the open public gaze.
Every van has pitched its tent in the car parks by the shore
The old tribes gather for the ritual of the sun set
The travellers at the bar listen to the up and coming Spice Girls
You can get high by the sea when the sun goes sweetly down.
Ocean Front, Venice Beach, Los Angeles
From Observations
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Stick up at Mohave Pass
The hovering eagle hawks its greetings
High up in the Rockies watching for fleeting
Signs of life on the sagebrush ground.
Here in the mountains there is no other sound
The bird is company among the snowy peaks
Off on the horizon the meltwaters cascade down.
In the valley the road snakes westwards
Through the high plateau pressing onwards
To the desert lands where the tribes sell the right
To the mineral gold long locked away from human sight,
Yet promising to keep the mountains ever free
As they wear down into crazy shapes year by year.
Out there in the mountains and red deserts
Where the blazing sun's heat bakes and puts
A man's brain on fire there is no respite
From the history of a land where might
Has proved the arbiter of man's destiny
And ghosts walk by moonlight in the valley.
Dusty time, a thin blue haze, hangs in the canyon
Above the yellow brown rocks soft in sun's colour
Hard in moon's baneful light, thirsty
For rain that never comes, there is no mercy
Shown in the desert lands, only the slow grinding
Of the river from the mountain snows unwinding.
LIke a hawk a car appears out of the light,
Whirls behind the speeding traveller right
At Mohave Pass, in the broiling heat he steps
Forward to inspect his prey, this armed man lets
No sign of weakness show on his clean cut face,
Makes his hit in the heat of the desert furnace
While the ancient black mountains look on in silence.
The Mohave Desert, Arizona
From Observations
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Cecile, a song
Cecile, you were so freshly free standing beside me,
Your smile was warm, so warm, I felt inside your fire.
You came softly over to me and asked for words sweet as a lyre,
I can only sing you slowly as I drink you like honey from a bee.
Cecile the moon is watching, your sister is our guiding star,
Lie down beside the twinkling water as early starlings sing,
Come close enough to let your flesh gather me up from far,
I can only touch you lightly and slowly as my cup brims.
Cecile I see the sky turning to light above our heads,
Your breasts I have played into every conceivable glow,
The rushing pursuits of the waking city are invading our bed
\
And could it be that love for me must fly away when the sun shows?
Amsterdam.
From Post book from around the world.
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That love spring
The days were long, the hours beyond number, the river flowed. The earth had ceased to be. Hidden she was under the winds of cold, the sleet of despair, broken slushy snows, hard frost. Enchanted life slept
with her secret.
A year had died. Perilously lived the people within the shade of death. Having empty faith in spring, they found the dead earth not tragic, not profound. Unknowing, they halted their song of life, the harmonies of the breeding colliding growing germinating world. The withdrawal of life to a secret chamber meant little
to their everyday lives. The sadness filled their hearts, the goodness in the dark. Wise men ascended snow capped mountains, wondered at the stars' clarity, tried to discover in death why life was certain to return.
Today spring declared herself. She was not as expected. The wisest men had done what they most feared, they had fallen in love with life's death, considered life's former history evil! Life, having no need to
examine her course had lived exceedingly well, thriving multiplying enjoying, pandered lulled sated, amusing and enriching herself. She did not ask what was right, what was wrong.
Life had loved living, every part. As unhappy men examined her life and found her three quarters bad, she did not care if she were considered all bad. She exulted in living richly and wholeheartedly.
In the cold of their hearts men praised death. Today spring passed by, triumphant glowing unrepentant magnificent.
Before her eyes the river shone light. The clouds piled higher and higher on one another, each a colour of its own. Under the choirs of sunlit clouds amid the great greeness of the grasses she returned. Stroking her long perfect legs. Feeling her soft wet pulp vagina. Grunting and sighing, heaving and gulping, racing and slowing, vibrating, opening and shutting, clutching releasing gazing kissing smothering hugging. Spring appeared, to all she looked a harlot. So obvious was her enjoyment, so great her beauty, so magnificent her allure.
Spring was reviled by suffering men, tired women. Thrilling with a new life she came, they spat at her. She groaned her last groan. Her thighs fought with a vicious strength to stop the year ravishing her completely. The year finally, with the last throb of his penis, dropped his seeds of time into her womb. His straining arm forced the savage belly and thighs to fall back and yield.
No one knew the dark secret of spring as the union took place.
She had come pure, had given herself complete, now she must sometime die again.
Who could know on the first day of spring her dark dark secret of future death?
Spring, only spring, knows how much she gives.
While those robot men call her a whore, she gives all!
From The conjunction of the sun and moon
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To make love
I have never seen the stars like this through your sadness,
Only the lights in your jewel eyes are lights as clear.
Quite fitting it is that in sadness not frivolity we become one
Yours the secret to inflame me, I want you viciously.
When you have sat before me wise and beautiful
Gypsy woman stargazer so knowing and assured
It aggravates beyond relief when now you scorn me,
Now you hiss at me, I rip at your clothes to strip you.
You have tantalised beyond due measure with your knowledge
You must have much power to sit so calm on my bed
So unconcerned, so certain you control the strings.
Yours the secret to inflame me, I may tear you apart.
Many hours of mutter, argue, despair and bedevil.
You spring up and cast your clothes aside!
I match your hurried haste with positive relish
Now you take me on your magic ship.
The words we spoke, the gestures, the hints, the looks,
They were all nothing! You are dancing about me,
You and your pure form, lilting legs, glittering stomach, dashing lips, hot ardour.
I break into you, breathing abruptly and thirstily.
You unleash my power, channel it through your body,
Heave me up, cast me into your net, smother me, cocoon me.
I blaze into you, grunt roasted air in your skin and finally
Explode with a flash into another world you created from nothing.
From The Conjunction of the Sun and Moon
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One Perfect Day
Elizruth, Elizruth, Elizruth, twig bestrewed ground, Elizruth.
Lips melting, soft wet lips to love behind the red rose
Breasts to kiss until they rise, you want to love and this you know
Elizruth, Elizeruth, Elizruth, how you wish to know my name.
Jump jump jump your length and mine to the ground,
Fall into my waiting arms, stride with your young grace
Follow and glide into the castle's garden, show me your face
One hour, one hour, one hour, we are as close as ever can be.
Elizruth, Elizruth, Elizruth, you breath hot and must show
Your young woman's budding, with your breasts you rise to kiss
The bringer of the green garden's life, now you will never miss
The music of the song of every day, we meet in morning, depart in evening.
Nuremburg Castle, Germany
From Post Book From Around The World
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World
It took me twenty four years to realise
I belong to the whole world.
That is a simple statement I make to you
So simple it might be wise.
In three weeks I begin to explore my birth
Of mountains, water, land, light.
I see now my many long days of childhood
There was ample time for mirth.
Wonder days of the young have no ambition
In alleys, on commons, near streams.
I was taught to be old, distrusting, cautious,
A training for postion.
The struggle to laugh among fearing faces
Is a struggle for the old.
Fear of the future will vanish with death's laugh
There's no fear for firm paces.
I was stopped exploring the world very young,
Teased with pride, envy and greed.
I was taught the savage tactics of old men,
Yet my body music sung.
Why should I fear an Arab, an Indian,
Any of the race of men?
I go young to see the miracle of life
Welcome all meridian.
Love freely given has taught me to be bold.
My loves grew quickly women
More quickly, than I, smug, grew into a man,
I was afraid, cold and old.
In three weeks I return to travel delight.
Young, I entered an iron gate,
Now again young and a man,
I pass back through the gate, feel like a sprite!
From The Sphere of the Moon Goddess
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