1.
Oh yes, friend! I'm crazy-
that's just the way I am.
2.
I see sounds,
I hear sights,
I taste smells,
I touch not heaven but things from the underworld,
things people do not believe exist,
......
When we were nine or ten and used to play
at dying - hands clasped to the chest,
Goodbye, beautiful world, I love you ! -
we didn't believe it could ever really be done.
Say goodbye to everything? A gunshot wound
In 'Alias Smith and Jones' could set us thinking -
please please don't die - or a feathered mess
that had been a pigeon squashed on the road
......
Napoleon's hat is an obvious choice I guess to list as a famous
hat, but that's not the hat I have in mind. That was his hat for
show. I am thinking of his private bathing cap, which in all hon-
esty wasn't much different than the one any jerk might buy at a
corner drugstore now, except for two minor eccentricities. The
first one isn't even funny: Simply it was a white rubber bathing
cap, but too small. Napoleon led such a hectic life ever since his
childhood, even farther back than that, that he never had a
chance to buy a new bathing cap and still as a grown-up--well,
he didn't really grow that much, but his head did: He was a pin-
......
"There's no sense in going further --
it's the edge of cultivation,"
So they said, and I believed it --
broke my land and sowed my crop --
Built my barns and strung my fences
in the little border station
Tucked away below the foothills
where the trails run out and stop.
Till a voice, as bad as Conscience,
......
ONCE more the storm is howling, and half hid
Under this cradle-hood and coverlid
My child sleeps on. There is no obstacle
But Gregory's wood and one bare hill
Whereby the haystack- and roof-levelling wind.
Bred on the Atlantic, can be stayed;
And for an hour I have walked and prayed
Because of the great gloom that is in my mind.
I have walked and prayed for this young child an hour
And heard the sea-wind scream upon the tower,
......
‘Neath the air, its cold puff, the plough & its tough
In the oval moon, the pacing dandelion fluff
In this window & flower pot & a handcuff
Seeing the oceans of white waves, paves the ashes
Sea shells & the crabs laughed ‘neath the
Canopy . . . the itchy irritation butterflies
The poor gum, immaculate flowers, illusions
The captains mangle, its luring a stray skeleton cat
Its refuge in a cave of bats, whose limbs torn, sing melodies
Blind & with bleeding chests, lays pieces & the pests
......
Shutting the door with a sigh
Running from insanity
A close call, as claws clatter and click
Fanged jaws snap, and fling snotty saliva
Unhinged hounds of lunacy
A ravenous pack, carried on my shoulder
Feverishly followed by fatuous feelings
Never far from crazy
......
His methods were almost simplistic...
He seemed anachronistic...
His attitude totally chauvinistic...
His words often linguistic...
He lost his large enthusiasm...
No longer using sharp sarcasm...
His thoughts going into a strange spasm...
His bruised ego triggered a chasm...
......
In the morning
she jerked him off
and had him
cum in the cups of her
bra and then
he watched as she put it
on and went about the
rest of her day like
that
......
daisies in my hair
red and pink yellow and blue
the fields of frolic
vases hats gardens
trailing sun from window box
swaying to summer
anytime daisy
dawn sunset red midnight black
......