1990
 

The taking of flash photos & use of recording devices of any kind, including pens, pencils, eyes & ears, is strictly encouraged.

 

 

It's 1990

& Nelson Mandela is free!

 

& people are looking at each other

They're going like "Wha?"

& the other people are looking back

& they're going like "Duh?"

& finally, after this deep interaction,

You hear the wild cry of:

"Excuse me, could you tell me the time?"

 

What time is it?

It's Wake & Shake Time

It's Death of the Decade Time

It's Turn of the Century Time

It's Gyrate the Millennium Time

It's the End of Time

"At the sound of the tone it will be the End of Time"

It's 1 PF - it's Post Future

It's 1 PT - it's post time

It's Post Time!

 

It's 1990

& Nelson Mandela is free!

 

History's on fast forward

Make that double-fast fast forward

That's where you run past the Future so fast you're back in the Past

Sure, it's the End of History

So how come all we can think is, "What comes next?"

One minute you're rolling in ecstasy because the Berlin Wall is tumbling down,

The next you think, a reunited Germany! Oh God no!

Here come the storm troopers! & I'm Jewish (Well, my father was Jewish,

     so I'm not Jewish enough for the Jews - but I'm Jewish enough for the Nazis!)

One minute it's survival tactics & the next it's where's the angle

 

It's 1990

& Nelson Mandela is free!

 

& everybody wants a little glasnost

We know we want it cause we see Frank Zappa smoking cigarettes with Vaclav Havel,

     who 6 months ago was in jail, an artist whose work was banned by the government,

     now he's the President of Czechoslovakia

So stop in for free baby burritos at the corner bar

Except suddenly it's a karaoke sushi bar specializing in piranha sushi,

     & everybody here's a star,

Because you get to stand in front of the massive TV screen showing an MTV-minus one

     video clip & sing along with the bouncing ball --

Except the words are all in Japanese and how can you sing "Feelings"

     with feeling in Japanese?

Kanjiru! Watashiwa, kanjiru!

 

It's 1990

& Nelson Mandela is free!

 

Communism has collapsed

At last the Russians get to wear the "Happy Face" masks & stand in line for a Beeg Mek

The Azerbaijanis are finally free so they get to beat up on the Armenians

Yugoslavia has decided to go back to indigenous cave tribe groupings

In Italy the Communists have met & decided they're not Communists
They're gonna change their name to be more appealing to the Socialists and the Greens

But for the time being they're calling themselves simply The Thing

The Thing! Personally, I'm planning to vote for - the Thing
For the time being   For the time being

There's nothing left anymore except for the time being

You live your whole life for the time being

While meanwhile -- there is no meanwhile

 

It's 1990

& Nelson Mandela is free!

 

"Play ethics by ear"

Let me out of here - but which way is out?

I'm a part of the food chain, isn't that enough?

At night I snuggle up close to the warm blue glow of images provided for everyone

     by a select few

Listen, they've packaged a shopping mall so small you can only visit it with

     a Video Walkperson, a cellular phone and a Visa card

The world is changing, but we're not

We're stuck in a commercial for Life

Trying to figure out who to give the money to

When, surprise! There is no money

 

It's 1990

& Nelson Mandela is free!

 

Senor Yuppie! Phone call for Senor Yuppie!

Pardon me, have to step over these homeless people to close on my Home Equity Loan,

     sorry

"Our bodies are still tender & not full grown & the prospect of dying frightens us all,

     but history calls us & we must go"

But where did they go, the Chinese students on their bicycles riding towards the tanks

     at Tiananmen Square,

It can't happen here because it's already happened here

AIDS epidemic grabs Life till we don't even see it, gone like holes in heart,

Surrounded by ghosts, meeting Death in the middle of Life

While lesbians and gay men still have to fight for the right to love

& be sure to send your poetry to the Department of Official Bullshit to get labeled

So it just has to be -- time to get a Coop! --

     buy the place you used to rent, and still get to pay the rent

It's time to be a great parent --

     work extra hours to pay for the best childcare while you're away

My kid is majoring in Nikes

Don't worry! Don't be happy! Explode!

The decision of birth from her body is solely & privately that of the woman herself

 

It's 1990

& Nelson Mandela is free!

 

 

And everything used to be something else

Now it's 1,000 words a minute, & Times Square is just so much more interesting

We're hellbent on something, sort of positive in a senile way

I can't even keep up with my life

It's a secret between me & my stunt double

Honey, I'm home - nuke me

Hop to it, ban cigarettes before it's too late

It's Earth Day again, if you can find any earth left

Paranoia used to be a psychosis, now it's a national pastime

Try the new fashion: the bare breast style of no clothes at all,  & it's not cheap, either

& poetry is the newspaper of the future

Except it's locked out of the media

You know things! Think them!

There's optimism at the yacht club

The salad bar is open

Excuse me, isn't it time to mow your head?

I hate you! Thank you very much, have a nice day

They don't even know what it is, but they've already got an option on it

They're buying into it! Let's Not Make A Deal!

 

It's 1990

& Nelson Mandela is free!

 

& there's a guy at the microphone & he's yelling at me

& he's not using language that makes any sense from where I come from

It all rhymes & it all starts with capital letters

& it's all intense italics underlined three times in bold face headlines

& all I can remember is the part about

It's 1990

& Nelson Mandela is free!

 

& around the world a sense of possibility

As women slowly ease the old gray dinosaur poobahs from their penile thrones

The universal remote control is being passed into your hands

 

Zap it! Zap it!

Zap it! Zap it! Zap it!

 

It's 1990

& Nelson Mandela is free!

 

 

_________________________________________________

 

 

A QUICK POUND

 

Continual molds

Catch in your voice

Reflex aerial

Path of pathology

An active look as hawk

Beak extends into dove's throat

Break continuity here

Invent new language here

Commit suicide here

Transform into giant insect here

Eat buttered toast here

Make love here

Go back to work here

Suddenly it's not necessarily

The convenience of heart & lung

Same old story, up a cliff

Night the tide coming in

We'll never make it

Bite my lip

Dawn after dawn pours down

 

 

_________________________________________________

 

 

AWAITING THE RETURN OF THE DRUNK WITH THE BROOM

 

In time, the light of passion returned to his eyes,

And then, suddenly, it was genius or burst!

He'd been dogged by self-mistrust, earnest & true, What's the matter with you?  Now visions

Stayed put, he could look & talk at the

Same time, he could see through & through it.

His anger at the fools who looked first

At the signature, then at the work -- he'd show

'Em! He began sweeping with a vengeance.

It all came back, so very clear, rushing

Towards him!  He turned his back as the wave

Broke over him, & swept him out to sea.

Draw this, he said.  Draw this poem I ordered.

 

What a drama!  Harder than walking on water even,

It was more loved than lovely, something you

Can only write down, never endure.  Oh,

She uttered, as he rolled over her, fuck me now!

People actually talk like this.

He was inside the painting at the time

 

 

_________________________________________________

 

 

CENSOR NOT

 

Censor not the oobly

          of yr doobly doo

Let it crown the crow

Grow a can of cow corn all shorn

For sure

It was the sea

Twas that the sea?

 

This Scratchy Life

 

No security, that's fine

No love, sure, sounds great

No blessing in disguise,

Or out of disguise either

That's good real goood

O! What a beautiful Absolute

Walking around, a beanbag of blood

Keeping pace with the air, a purple

Brilliance abop the brilliance

Because the poet tastes

The words as she makes 'em

The rules and roles are sweeping

Up is up wherever

The sea unfurls itself your hair

To make itself the sea.

 

 

_________________________________________________

 

 

THE COLLECT CALL OF THE WILD

 

Here it is, just where you said

It would be.  Your mind is quiet

And your shows seem to be going

Somewhere.  The road, the road, as was once

Said, or twice, is where we go on.  Where

 

Everything is acceptable, the blame more

Than most.  Gray hair, cigarettes, tightening

Pants.  To be gored by age is not exactly sexy,

But it's not to be denied.  Not anymore.

Not any less, either, as the sun earnestly plies

 

The window dressing.  A vocabulary, not the secret

Of life, that's all.  If it taxes your spirit,

Some kind of government must be flowering.  Blood

Is one example, the example of constancy, readiness

and  effulgence.  Another is lit up like Reno, popped

 

Champagne and caviar on a paper plate.  What does

Doesn't last, and what is lost will probably

Transform even if it's found.  That's the problem,

That the idea of the thing won't stand still,

A doggie finding its spot.  Whose name is Spot!

 

Of course the pay phone rings in the crowded lunch

With no one caring the slightest for its emergency.

Too many crackers in the soup, the glass is greasy,

Yet we rest easy.  It's the company, I'd guess. That we

Finally have accepted knowing each other this way, and that's

The way we find ourselves, little by little, by and large.

 

 

_________________________________________________

 

 

CREELEY'S ANSWERING MACHINE

 

Keep it brief--

can't handle

 

more than

thirty seconds.

 

 

_________________________________________________

 

 

CREELEY'S ORAL TRADITION

 

Shit, it's

all oral--

 

when you

hear it you

 

write it,

when you

 

read it, you

hear it.

 

 

_________________________________________________

 

 

THE ESSENCE NOT THE MODE

 

Heaving stones into the sea.  Ships & boats.

Rocks & stones.  These are a few of my favorite

Things.  Things which are themselves in the center

Of things.  In the center of language.  Between

"m" & "n".  The "&" between.  You & me in bed, fitting

Our arm around our head while the flower buds, would

You look at that, & blossoms glorious, wilts & dies,

Dries, & is preserved.  Two waterglasses on the window sill:

Two skulls.  My fingers in your mouth, your love in mine --

You can taste the good old classical mode as it fits

Shapely over the wild vines on the wall we cling to.

 

Cupid, draw back thy bow & let thy arrow go straight to my lover's

Heart for me! We are cooking up a storm. A tornado that drips

Down the side. For protection we run into a yellow tent.

 

 

_________________________________________________

 

 

FIGHTING SKUNKS

               for Jose Padua

 

Could be worse

Could be singing

"That's Amore

 

 

_________________________________________________

 

 

FUTURE LOVE

 

I skid up to see her

Goo goo ya blues, Coco

Shake the shape & talk

It's all free, except you

Always pay & pay & then

     you pay

I've got a date, & guess

What, it's with you

Alarm is true, & I report

The bomb for you

It's a crime to rhyme

Truth with greed & capitalism

With a sense of purpose

I'm going to take your

Lovely sex & eat forever

 

 

_________________________________________________

 

 

GOO AHEAD

 

Goo ahead

 

 

_________________________________________________

 

 

GOOD TO HEAR FROM YOU

               --to Gregory Kolovakos

 

A wise person once said these words

And you expect me to repeat them?  Never,

For in that repetition there is is something