Daye 86 / The Last Day Of The Decade

i once read lester bangs
and spent the next three days
drawing psychedelic lines around a piece of paper
until it was totally black
then on consecutive nights had a panic attack
since then of course i've tried
to slow myself down
almost to normal
i sleep at all the right times

this morning
i am awakened by the unholy quiet
the silence hums to me
through the heavy curtains
a slow blank white
light of a drifting fog comes inside
the last day of the decade may also be the softest
i pull on some clothes
and walk out onto the smooth edge of the city
it's so early that there's only myself to talk to
and the universe is all around
it envelops me
and today it feels okay
zigzagging across sparklepark
oh i very much wanted to see the park today
where the fog grows thickest
and the leafless trees cast no shadows
i wander about
happy
thinking of the time that is against me
and ha ha what a thing to think!
the year 2010 to be
almost here
and spaces in a past that will be forever unfilled
don't have to be spaces
do they?

much later/earlier
something pulls me into
a part of the city i'm unfamiliar with
and it's still foggy
like it's always foggy
and i don't have a sat nav
so i don't know where i am
and i don't know what i'm doing
a girl meets me at the door
she's wearing a black blouse and a white skirt
her hair explodes across her head
her eyes are blue blinking in the light
she gives me that look
i follow her into a room
where she sits down at a desk
she gets on with her work
while i wait
i read a few pages of my book
watch some daytime tv
listen to my ipod
i wait all day
i always have to wait
everybody has to wait
it's not that i'm impatient
it's just that i'm old enough and wise enough to know
and i no longer have the urge to play
so i tell the girl that i won't wait any longer
and i tell her that the company can go and fuck themselves
she looks shocked
and red-faced
says her boss will see me now
but i'm already out through the door
and back into the fog

i am supposed to see harin tonight
but we have been invited to a party
so i ask her to come along
she says yes
so we meet at brion's
where everybody but me is already under the influence
so i volunteer to drive
brion's roomy maroon saloon car
out towards congleton
headed for the unknown what
five miles out brion says we need petrol
we don't
but i stop at the next station anyway
everybody climbs out of the car
and into the station shop
brion fills up the tank
then realizes he's left all of his money and his cards
on the kitchen table
of his big white house on tempest drive
so i pay for the petrol
and cigarettes
and soft drinks
and the munchies
by the time they are back in the car
the others are much too spaced to give any directions
and we've missed the party by some miles
somehow we've ended up on shadowmoss road
close to the airport
everybody gets hung up on the bright lights in the sky
brion and aurora want to wait here
for a while
time passes
aurora gets excited
lights appear in the sky
the lights come closer
the lights become a beautiful greysilver airliner
which floats past a few hundred feet overhead
before disappearing into the fog
we must leave now if we want to make the party
says a voice next to me
just one more pleads aurora
sigh

are you sure this is the right place?
asks brion
its not how he remembers it you see
well it wouldn't be...
would it
we have to leave the car parked on the road
outside the gates of the house
no room left to park inside them
i follow hitch into the fog
and the curling smoke
down a very long and murky garden path
which winds itself through tall hedges of copper beech
past smiling girls in fancy dress we go
and boys holding psychedlic candles
past all those fireworks
and sparklers
through the fairy lights
and strobe-lights
a cctv camera tracking my every move
and when the path opens up into a great illuminated garden
which seems to stretch for miles either way
aurora sighs loudly
and harin giggles
'cos somebody has sprayed the lawns turquoise and maroon
especially for the party
and there are people everywhere
stretched out asleep on the lawns and benches
dum de dum de dum
or on the patio
lying under the trees
or in the branches of the trees
in the fountains
draped across the walls of the garden
and crowding the verandah
an amplified owl screech erupts from deep inside the house
and out into the night
''..this is not reality..
this is not the real
thing...
this is not the....''
<>DRRRRRRRINGGGGGG<>
oscillating guitar chord
sends me spinning backwards
now sideways
through oversized party balloons
and strobe-light nicky is running
laughing
at me and past me
his feet are a blur
his hair is a prism
refracting the light
this ways and that
his girl is right behind
they rush out of the house together
hand in hand
into the lights and the colour
into the garden
into the night
into tomorrow
into 2010
into the far-flung futuuuure

Daye 85 / The Secret

two girls discover
the secret of life
in a sudden line of
poetry

i who don't know the
secret wrote
the line
they told me

(through a third person)
they had found it
but not what it was
not even

what line it was
no doubt
by now
more than a week
later
they have forgotten
the secret

the line
the name of
the poem
i love them
for finding what
i can't find

and for loving me
for the line i wrote
and for forgetting it
so that

a thousand times
till death
finds them
they may
discover it again
in other
lines

in other
happenings
and for
wanting to know it
for

assuming there is
such a secret
yes
for that
most of all
~Denise Levertov

Daye 84 / Beginnings And Endings

strange how it goes
with beginnings and endings
when we were ten we used to throw stones
at each other
by the time we we sixteen we were the best
of friends
he took my place as singer in my first band
our guitarist martin heard this voice
through the bathroom window
singing along to bowie and mott the hoople
and that was it
i was out
he was in
but i held no grudges
and neither did he when i replaced him again
a few months later
the band was shite anyway
and by the next year we were in a band of our own
writing and singing together
toe to toe
sharing smokes
and girlfriends
and smutty jokes
and guitars
and speakers
and amps
and our last few £'s
and druhgs
and records
and cassettes
and videos
and books
and magazines
and poems
and newspapers
and comics
and posters
and binge drinking
and getting stupid
and falling in love with each others girls
and haircuts
and earrings
and mens make-up
and dreams
and friends
and mens clothes
and ladies clothes
and shoes 'n' boots
and stories
and druhg-busts
and sulks
and fights
and falling outs
and nights in the cells
and nights on the tiles
and nights at crap clubs
and being thrown out by landlords or parents
and sleeping under the stars in dunham park
and seeing phantoms in the grounds of ashley hall
and bike rides up to tatton
and appearances in court
and jolly jaunts in the van
and holidays in the sun
and summer jobs in france
and crap gigs
and sacking the drummer
and more druhgs
and discovering eno and zappa
and v.u. and nico
and huxley and vonnegut
and pynchon and hardy
and hepatitis
and hospital beds
and falling out of sync with each other so easily
and arranging rehearsals and failing to show
and arranging meetings and failing to show
and more druhgs
and more hospital beds
and girlfriends who hated one another
and moving to different cities
and not contacting each other for months on end
and then the final terrible phonecall

Daye 83 / I Am The Cosmos

every night i tell myself
i am the cosmos
i am the wind
but that don't get you back again
just when i was starting to feel okay
you're on the phone
i never wanna be alone
never wanna be alone
i hate to have to take you home
wanted too much to say no no
yeah yeah yeah
yeah yeah yeah
never wanna be alone
i hate to have to take you home
want you too much to say no no
yeah yeah yeah
yeah yeah yeah
my feelings always have been
something i couldn't hide
i can confide
don't know what's going on inside
so every night i tell myself
i am the cosmos
i am the wind
but that don't get you back again
i'd really like to see you again
i really wanna see you again
i'd really like to see you again
i really wanna see you again
i'd really like to see you again
i really wanna see you again
i never wanna see you again
really wanna see you again
~Chris Bell (d. 27/12/1978)

Daye 81 / Mistletoe

sitting under the mistletoe
pale-green
fairy mistletoe
one last candle burning low
all the sleepy dancers gone
just one candle burning on
shadows lurking everywhere
some one came
and kissed me there

tired i was
my head would go
nodding under the mistletoe
pale-green
fairy mistletoe
no footsteps came
no voice but only
just as I sat there
sleepy lonely
stooped in the still and shadowy air
lips unseen
and kissed me there
~ Walter de la Mare

Daye 80 / A Snowstorm

last night aurora's guitar playing called up a huge snowstorm
centered over tempest drive
we were rehearsing some new songs
the psykick sea being particularily peculiar
extended and strange
so things were going pretty well
and somebody happened to draw back the blinds
and peep out the large bay windows that open onto the edge
there had grown a thick layer of snow
where the fields had been earlier that afternoon
and the sky was blotted out by billions of large white flakes
somebody said we were snowed in
so brion went outside to see for himself
and quickly realised that we would all have to spend the night in alderley
the streetlights were out all down the hill
the roads were impassable
car-batteries dead
the wipers on aurora's super-duper silver mini were frozen onto the windscreen

there wasn't enough bedspace or enough setteespace to go 'round
so we decided that we would take the opportunity to play and record through the night
we all got a little giddy
switched off every light in the house
to let the music breathe
we got high on the ice patterns that formed on the windows
and the strange shadows which they cast on the bare walls of the studio
we got high on the snow falling outside
watching the icestorm growing as we played
swooning in the early morning air whenever we slipped outside
to take a quick breather or to have a smoke
inbetween takes we listened to some great music
amon duul II's yeti
the grateful dead's aoxomoxoa
eno's before and after science
and hitch read aloud some ghostly mr james during coffee breaks

when lucy pulled out five cards from a set of oblique strategies
1) use an old idea
2) repetition is a form of change
3) remove specifics and convert to ambiguities
4) trust in the you of now
5) emphasize the flaws
we were inspired
aurora thrashed at her guitar even more than she had before
warlie and mex pounded on the toms
someone sucked at a cannister of n₂o
got kind of confused for a while
but the tft+ just played on and on
without stopping
until the morning white light
began to filter into the room
and then one by one the musicians started to fall asleep
some still at their instruments

Daye 79 / The Thousand Arms Of Avalokitesvara

avalokitesvara the buddhist saint of compassion
pledged that he would never rest
until he had freed all sentient beings from samsara
the endless cycle of birth death rebirth
despite his best efforts
he soon realized that many beings
were still to be freed
and as he struggled to comprehend
the needs of so many
his head cracked into eleven pieces

amitabha buddha
saw his plight
and gave him eleven heads
with which to hear the cries of those
who were suffering multiple reincarnations
the eleven-headed avalokitesvara
did indeed hear these cries
and comprehended them
but in his attempt to reach out to all those
who needed aid
both of his arms shattered into pieces
once more amitabha buddha
came to his aid
investing him with a thousand arms
with which to aid the suffering multitudes...

Daye 78 / I Get Lost

the day trembles
i get lost
i go backwards and forwards
a tiny light switches on
there are stars in my veins
a cosmos fills my brain
but i get lost
birds fly twittering through the sky
citynoise drones on inside my head
the church play in the background
memories warp
st b playing water music in his long dream
i follow him down to the sealine
this is unreality tv
we're up on a hilltop
i'm trying to grasp just what it is that's coming for me
but i don't understand yet
i might never understand
ah i'm so fucking lost
i pray
and i don't pray
i believe
but i don't believe
i laugh
and i don't laugh
i cry
i don't cry
i want
i don't want
i'm here
but not here
i love
but i don't love
i'm innocent
not innocent
i kill
don't kill
i see
but i don't see
i know
but i don't know
i'm alive
and i'm not alive
i'm even
i'm uneven
i'm real
i'm unreal
slip easily into the automode
i climb down from the roof of the world
i don't feel any better
sun pours through the roof of my silver car
it blinds me
the roads are wide and sticky
i can smell the asphalt under my wheels
i'm stuck in traffic
get me out
let me out
i hate being stuck in traffic
the fumes irritate me
the engine noise annoys me
a bee comes through my window
it lands on my arm
crawls up the sleeve of my shirt
tickles me
i accidentally squash it
it doesn't sting me
and i don't know why
i want to know why
i get a sudden sense of deja vu
see a girl i know
she walks past my car
shout hi
and call her name
but she doesn't respond
at least her lips don't move
neither does she look my way
then the traffic is moving again
now i'm lost
down an unknown street
how come i get lost so easily when i'm driving
i can never seem to find my way
anywhere
even a simple journey
takes much longer than it should
because i can't follow maps
can't remember instructions
my mind wanders
i get lost just driving around this city
and i've lived here forever
take the next left
then the next right
then third on the right just after
the traffic lights
i still get lost
i take a wrong turn
the wrong exit at the roundabout
i doubleback on myself
go 'round in circles
i'm in the wrong lane
cut up another driver
get annoyed
hot under the collar
'til my face is flushed
my heart begins to thump
passengers getting fidgety
they try to give me simple instructions
but i still get 'em wrong
i just can't find my way
it's a kind of metropodyslexia
i cannot recognise cities
cities make me act this way
i just get lost too easily

Daye 77 / Point Judith

crestfallen and broken breast
i feel a full shadow
i see a spur
digging snails on the rocks
and it’s low tide
and there’s diamonds in the ocean
but if there’s a moth
winging out over the waves in the sunlight
then two spiders meet on a rock
but they’re the same anyhow so...
it’s all so still here I...
little waves spill over little rocks
you can peel off mica from the rocks
as it shines like smooth silver
but you know there’s more than this
’cause you can see the boats sailing

and the gulls fly by fishing
and there’s a lighthouse in the distance
but...
it’s all so quiet that..
why disturb the silence
so go away in the moonlight
and bring back a starfish
settle back easy
and make up your mind to stay
i’ve earned a fortune
and there’s not much more to say
i’m livin’ easy
smooth as silk these days
i see that you’re fearful
haven’t changed your ways
settle back easy
and make up your mind to stay
the country’s cleaner
and i’ve earned a fortune
and you don’t have to pay
just settle back easy
and make up your mind to stay
~ Jandek

Daye 76 / The Six O'Clock Bus

2012's the year baby
but it won't be like the film
which i watched last night
with one of my boys
we sat openmouthed
the cinema walls shook
the seats rattled
a supersize me pepsi
a carton of popcorn
and a bag of mint aero bubbles
on his knee
me yawning and trying not to fall asleep
in the heat of the cinema
as the world began to come apart before our eyes
in vainglorious
hollywoodblockbusterdisastermovievision
with a laugh out loud crap script
fuckoff car chases
and 'yes mister president sir!' salutes
i was a good daddy
i answered all of my son's whipered questions
dad isn't that the guy out of east is east
dad that can't really happen can it
dad what country are they in now
dad is that mt everest
dad what time is it
dad is the film nearly finished
no it won't be like the film
it will be more like
the six o'clock bus
which i read years ago
when i was not well and still seeing
multicoloured butterflies everywhere
yeah the onset will be gradual
and more subtle
and more unreal
and more in the head
the first trump will sound
and people won't even hear it
but nevertheless they'll stop believing
and start believing in something else
tap into the cosmic consciousness
follow a david icke
or a ronald weinland
rev moon
david koresh, deceased
l. ron hubbard, also deceased
matter will evaporate into spirit
spirit will condense into matter
there will be false christs
religious hucksters
there will be false prophets
false profits
the world economy will begin to collapse
and there will be violence on the streets
and anarchy and stupidity and fucking in the streets
and there will be anger everywhere
and there will be cynicism
and there will be bloodshed
and there will be random acts of terrorism
and the weather will go funny
the temperature will go through the roof
rainfall is on the increase
snowstorms blizzards hurricanes floods
forest fires and droughts
conspiracy theories will abound
we've been set up
only the illuminati or the mega rich have any chance of survival
the govt. are hiding something from us
the aliens are coming
they're already here
and there'll be earthquakes
and there will be volcanic activity
and there will be tidal waves
and there will be famines
and we'll all get the heebie jeebies
captain trips
or swine flu
or bird flu
or light flu
or ebola
there'll be epidemics and pandemics
yes there'll be plagues
and there will be praying
and there'll be wars
and there will be warnings of comets
or roving rogue asteroids
or planet x
alien shape-shifters
lizards
the invaders
and the earth's poles will shift
like they have done many times before in the distant past
you don't believe it
well why do you think they've found fossilised fishes
at the top of the himalayas
and what do you think is buried beneath all that ice at the south pole
the laws of physics will stop working
one by one the lights will wink out
the earth will cease it's groaning
and will grind slowly
to a
halt

Daye 75 / Back To The Garden

it happened years ago
when i was very young
had an urge to get back to the garden
dreamed i was made of starstuff
took all of my clothes off in a field
for a photo shoot one afternoon
somewhere in south devon
where the summer is erotic
when the sun is up and blazing
the fields are green and yellow
and surrounded by blue hills
and the rustle of a few leafy trees
we find a nice field
we stop the turquoise bus
take off my clothes
to walk about naked
and it feels good
and so natural
feeling closer to nature
we have a short walk
and then lie back in the long grass
watching the sky
it's so quiet
i watch a beetle as it climbs up a stalk of grass
hearing it's legs brushing against the leaves
the insects are all around me now
the ants and the grasshoppers
butterflies and ladybirds fly in
to settle next to my ear
seconds minutes hours
days and weeks and months
years... decades... centuries...
millennia pass
and we're all still in the field
a baby cries in the distance
no it's not a baby
it's a crow in the next field
somebody picks up a camera
takes a few snaps
i sit up to look
as the sun goes behind a cloud
oops no clouds
no it's an aeroplane passing overhead
only there's no sound
i look upwards
it's not an aeroplane
it's something other than that
but i can't think of a name for what i can see above me
just hanging there
twinkle twinkle
suspended
like a diamond in the sky...
stationary
and so are we
it watches us
and we watch it
a standoff develops
then...
the air is very still
the daylight is soft
is it coming closer?
yes very very slowly
is it coming closer?
yes very very cautiously
is it getting brighter?
oh it's only the sun
i want my mum...

i'm driving the bus
heading nowhere
heading further furthur
everyone on the bus sits in silence
we're lost
and going 'round in circles
we keep passing the same few fields and hedgerows
only each time we drive past them they look a little different
and there's a deafening roar in my ears
it's coming from within
the moon is up
is that the time then?
didn't think we'd been out so long
must've been asleep at the wheel
i wind down the window
slow down to 5mph
the bus is
a large turquoise slug
crawling along the a38
our side of the road is deserted
the few cars we come across are all headed in the opposite direction
i notice that my watch has stopped
and the glass cover is cracked
i can only get static on the radio
and one of our headlights is off
i'm swerving across the road
or the road is swerving across me
and somebody groans in the back of the bus
and it sounds like a bomb going off
and somebody whimpers in the back of the bus
and it sounds like the end of the world
i recognize our little house in the distance
moonlit and beautiful
but something isn't right
more than moonlight
the house is lit up like a christmas tree
and as we come down the hill
i notice the shape in the field next door
obtuse angles
teardrops and spheres
it wasn't there yesterday
which is a lifetime ago
and as robert service said
there are strange things done in the midnight sun

Daye 74 / Katie And I

one night
katie and i
climbed up onto stormy point
to sit for a while
in the darkness
watching the world carrying on below us
we drank red wine
ate cheese and apples and chocolates
told tales to each other
and to the ghosts who lived in the woods
most of whom were content
to flit in and out of our sight occasionally
until some came right out of the trees
they hovered just above the ground
leaving a silver trail as they moved around
we coaxed one of them
into a beautiful glass bottle
and we took it home with us
we even gave it a name
until i began to feel sorry for it
and one night months later i opened the bottle
to set it free

but the ghost would not leave our house
now it roams at will
the small brown attic
the white staircase
and the silver kitchen
sometimes it plays a few stray notes
on the harmonium or the piano
or it strums a half-chord on one of the guitars
sometimes it drums softly on our bedroom door
at 3am in the morning
or sings our children back to sleep when they awake
in the middle of the night
it watches
over us
it's here now
looking over my shoulder as i type

years later
we went back to stormy point
and we walked out onto the edge
in the night blue dark
we dared not look down
but we looked down
caught a glimpse of a tiny silver boy
and then another
the glowing ghosts who came out of the trees to play that night
said that the silver boys were from the future
we were mad and we were glad
and we were heavenly
and katie and i used to sleep through the mornings
to sing and work and play all through the night
and we saved up all of our dreams
to spend them only on the things we needed most

Daye 73 / Sky Blue

C.o.M. is sky blue
sky blue tower blocks
sky blue streets
airliner dreaming as it sails over the city
sky blue vapour trail in the sky blue sky
huge shadow passing over the parks
and the rivers and gardens
cutting the city in half
the north and the south
and north is strange
people stop what they are doing
to gaze up into the sky
and some of them see nothing at all
except the sky blue of the city
and the sun
raining down sky blue light
onto the meadows
and onto the people that walk through them
or live in them

the lake is covered
by the sky blue dog of a mountain shadow
and the trees that circled it
have been cut down
their warm sap mixes with the gold sand
as what's left of the forest
waves and weaves itself skyward
sings it's lonely song
and people stop what they are doing
and gaze into the distance
some of them hear nothing at all
except the sky blue hum of the city
and the sun
singing down sky blue light
onto the meadows
onto the people that walk through them
or live in them

sky blue lightning creeps along my arm
it dreams and glows and grows
and fills the spaces between
the masts and minarets
there is a naked singularity
where the skyline suddenly plummets into sky blue nothingness
and from children's mouths come strange songs
of the electricity of love and of sky blue pink
childe with the sky blue hair
combs out her tresses beneath the sky blue august moon
and leans out over the balcony
people stop what they are doing
to look into her mirror
some of them feel nothing at all
except the sky blue breezes drifting from the city
and the sun
pressing down sky blue light
onto the meadows
onto the people that walk through them
or live in them

Daye 72 / The Ultimate Laptop

i could call down the birds
from the tops of trees
you could walk out at night under the heavy stars
and remember your past lives
if i concentrated hard
i could throw off sparks from my fingertips
but you could dream out aloud all along the avenue
you could hear sounds that remained hidden to me
and music came from behind the locked windows and doors
of every house we passed
sometimes you could make things happen
by thinking about them
golden holes would appear in your head
and through the holes i could see images
from every corner of the universe
or hear the sounds
of the sprites and cherubim that live inside the aum
i could forget nothing
and you could forget everything
yet still remember who and what
you were supposed to be
i cried over girls i had lost
but you cried only for those who had lost themselves
i was a ghost
and the days fell against me
and the days fell through me
you were drugged
and making plans for the next bright life
i'd wake into a dead faint
and give away all of my possessions on a whim
you walk into the unending maze
it's made of stars and planets and dust and gravity
it elongates and shifts shape
the exit eludes you for lifetimes
but eventually you arrive back at the beginning
and space spreads itself like an angels wing
time turns inside out
snaps at you with it's silvered teeth
you have just reached the entropy capital of the universe
you are home
you are 10¹²⁰ bits of information
you are the ultimate laptop

Daye 71 / Starry Night

Daye 70 / The Midnight Verses

i am living for the last time
it's a typical december morning
dark miserable damp
8.30am on my back
gazing upwards through the window
and into the cloud
downstairs the telephone is ringing
i know it's st.b
'cos the phone always rings twice as urgently
whenever he's at the other end
and i know why he's ringing
is there some way that my music could be important
and my life happy at the same time?
he will ask
same sane question as he will always ask
this morning i'm too tired to answer
i'm falling backwards into a dream
and ghgggsus o is a beautiful city
i haven't been back for some while
the light is eerie
the evening has a strange lustre
the streets look really narrow
everything is smaller than i remember
the stars have thrown new constellations
the wood gives off a mysterious perfume
i meet a dreamer sent from where the water is dappled
where the lusty underground river comes up for air
she answers my questionings
and i answer hers
the waterbirds no longer dwell at the lake
they have fled the firs the white ash and the haze
the lake ladye speaks aloud
i clear my throat as we walk through the tartrazine forest
i am a carrier of the great green pain
the city has been overtaken by drifts of thorny flowers and thorny things
the corpse queen's white arms are dreamily upon her breast crossed
the whole of this cosmos is lost
the glaciers move in silence down from the pole
the air hovers frozen and still over our heads
the keys on my piano have no sustain
their pretty notes are stillborn on the air
a forgotten dream is awakened
the rampant lionesses which once lined the petroglyph roads
have been broken up and removed
the twin-suns have dimmed
the king has sinned
we're interrupted by the telephone
nagging
i close my eyes
try to return
but i know i can never get back
i can't make the jump again so soon
so i go downstairs
pick up the phone
the voice at the other end of the line sounds like the north wind
the buzzer goes on my front door
and i can see two hunched figures through the frosted glass
nicky and mex are on my doorstep
nicky is red-eyed
and mex's words have already stopped making sense
these are the midnight verses
where i get up to sleep

Daye 69 / The Ghost Of A Flea

Daye 68 / A List Of Essentials

1. scribbled secret notebooks and wild typewritten pages - yr own joy
2. submissive to everything, open, listening
3. do not accept loss
4. never get drunk or high outside yr own home
5. be in love with yr life - be in love with everybody's life - be in love with everybody - be in love
6. something/anything/everything that you feel will find its own form
7. be the crazy dumbsaint of the mind
8. write what you want - the unspeakable visions of the individual
9. you are in a trance dreaming upon the person or object before you
10. remove inhibition
11. write in recollection and amazement of yourself
12. remember where you came from and remember where you are going to
13. believe in the holy contour of life
14. you are struggling to sketch the flow that already exists intact in yr mind
15. keep track of every day - the date emblazoned in yr morning
16. attach no fear or shame in the dignity of yr experience, language & knowledge
17. write for the world to read and to let them see yr exact pictures of it
18. composing - wild, undisciplined, pure, coming in from under
19. be a genius all the time
20. writer-director of earthly movies - sponsored & angeled in heaven

Daye 67 / Hymn To Pan

thrill with lissome lust of the light
o man! my man!
come careering out of the night of pan
Io pan!
Io pan! Io pan!
come over the sea
from sicily and from arcady
roaming as bacchus
with fauns and pards
and nymphs and satyrs for thy guards
on a milk-white ass
come over the sea
to me to me
come with apollo in bridal dress
(shepherdess and pythoness)
come with artemis
silken shod
and wash thy white thigh
beautiful god
in the moon of the woods
on the marble mount
the dimpled dawn of the amber fount
dip the purple of passionate prayer
in the crimson shrine
the scarlet snare
the soul that startles in eyes of blue
to watch thy wantonness weeping through
the tangled grove
the gnarled bole
of the living tree that is spirit and soul
and body and brain
come over the sea
(Io pan! Io pan!)
devil or god
to me to me
my man! my man!
come with trumpets sounding shrill
over the hill
come with drums low muttering
from the spring
come with flute and come with pipe
am I not ripe?
i who wait and writhe and wrestle
with air that hath no boughs to nestle
my body weary of empty clasp
strong as a lion and sharp as an asp
come o come
i am numb
with the lonely lust of devildom
thrust the sword through the galling fetter
all-devourer
all-begetter
give me the sign of the open eye
and the token erect of thorny thigh
and the word of madness and mystery
o pan! Io pan!
Io pan! Io pan pan! pan pan! pan!
i am a man
do as thou wilt
as a great god can
o pan! Io pan!
Io pan! Io pan pan!
i am awake
in the grip of the snake
the eagle slashes with beak and claw
the gods withdraw
the great beasts come
Io pan!
i am borne
to death on the horn
of the unicorn
i am pan! Io pan! Io pan pan! pan!
i am thy mate
i am thy man
goat of thy flock
i am gold
i am god
flesh to thy bone
flower to thy rod
with hoofs of steel i race on the rocks
through solstice stubborn to equinox
and i rave and i rape and i rip and i rend
everlasting
world without end
mannikin maiden maenad man
in the might of pan
Io pan! Io pan pan! pan! Io pan!
~Aleister Crowley

Daye 66 / It's A Fine Day

it's a fine day
people open windows
they leave their houses
just for a short while
they walk by the grass
and they look at the grass
they look at the sky
it's going to be a fine night tonight
it's going to be a fine day tomorrow
da da da da
da da da da da
da da da da da
da da da da da da
mmmm
na na na na na na
na na na na na
sitting in this field
i remember how we were going to sit in this field
but never quite did
rain or appointments or something
sitting in this field
i remember how we were going to sit in this field
but never quite did
rain or appointments or something
rain or appointments
mmmm
mmmm
mmmm
it's a fine day
people open windows
they leave their houses
just for a short while
they walk by the grass
and they look at the grass
they look at the sky
it's going to be a fine night tonight
it's going to be a fine day tomorrow
we will have salad
~ Edward Barton

Daye 65 / Metatron

archangel metatron
the highest of the angels
most heavenly scribe
thou describeth the deeds of all mankind
archangel metatron
whom god placed on a throne
next to the throne of glory
archangel metatron
struck willingly with god's wands of fire
to prove his sovereignty over thee
indeed there are not two powers above
archangel metatron
whose flesh is flame
whose veins are fire
whose eyelashes are flashes of lightning
whose eyeballs are as flaming torches
archangel metatron
who daily transmits the orders of god
to the angels gabriel and sammael
archangel metatron
twin brother to sandalphon
archangel metatron
who once was enoch
descendant of adam
metatron
archangel of the physical
archangel metatron
you are a youth and also have aged
archangel metatron
guardian of the infant moses on the nile river
archangel metatron
he of seventy names
archangel metatron
who enters the womb
to teach the embryo all possible wisdom
but then pinches together its lips
to create a philtrum
a moment before birth
causing it to forget all it has learned

Daye 64 / Into This Dirty Reality

i will birth myself into this dirty reality
via a microscopic tear in it's fabric
i will ride the folds and the spaces
and my beam-memory® will flicker
but it will never extinguish
it just continues to flicker
while reality imprints itself into the slums and palaces
oh lord protect us from the dark stuff
and other things besides
i will never leave this city
or leave this city
for even a second
for even a minute

i will seal myself into this grim flat
with candle wax
i will light the candle with this last match
and the flame will flicker
but it will never extinguish
it just carries on flickering
while the wax is dripping
i will spread it around the edges of the windows and doors
it will keep out the bad air
and lots of other things besides
it will keep me on the inside
i will not go outside again
into the city
or into the city

i will crawl into the bed
of the girl who lives here with me
i will cover her in passionate kisses
and she will flicker
but she will never extinguish
she just continues to flicker
while my cold lips kiss her
i will feel around the edges of the room
to check for growth
and lots of other things besides
but i will never climb out of this bed again
to leave this room
or leave this room

i will enter deep into her mind
through a small incision in her left temple
i will wander around naked in the golden light
and the light may flicker
but it will never extinguish
it will continue to flicker
for i love and adore her
i will feel around the edges of the universe
to check for starchanges
and other things besides
but i will never leave her mind
until the end of time
or to the end of time

Daye 63 / The Red Telephone

sitting on a hillside
watching all the people die
i'll feel much better on the other side
i'll thumb a ride
i believe in magic
why? because it is so quick
i don't need power when I'm hypnotized
look in my eyes
what are you seeing
how do you feel?
i feel real phony when my name is phil or was that bill?
life goes on here day after day
i don't know if I am living or if i'm supposed to be
sometimes my life is so eerie
and if you think I'm happy paint me white/yellow
i've been here once
i've been here twice
i don't know if the third's the fourth or if
the fifth's to fix
sometimes I deal with numbers
and if you wanna count me
count me out
i don't need the times of the day
anytime with me's okay
i just don't want you using up my time
'cause that's not right
ahh....
they're locking them up today
they're throwing away the key
i wonder who it'll be tomorrow
you or me?
we're all normal
and we want our freedom
freedom
freedom
freedom
freedom
freedom
freedom
freedom
freedom
all of god's children gotta have their freedom
~Arthur Lee

Daye 62 / Stuffed Nasturtium Blossoms

stuffed nasturtium blossoms made from
capers
cream cheese
and pesticide-free nasturtiums for breakfast
a whisper comes from a corner of the city
look at this look at this
like a fool i drop everything and i come running...
somebody just caught macropinna microstoma
a fish with a transparent head which lives in the pacific ocean
in the bay of bengal a young fisherwoman hauls in an umbrellamouth gulper eel
''it's mouth is so loosely hinged that it can swallow an animal larger than itself..'' she laughs
it swallows the fisherwoman whole
a crowd of gloaters gather around the bloated eel
as it thrashes about on the jetty
it thrashes about so much that it's long whip-like tail is tied into a dozen knots
there's a kind of commotion
people can't decide what to do
''shall we try to free the devoured fisherwoman?'' they ask me
i shrug my shoulders
''..or unknot the eel's tail and throw it back into the sea?...''
i walk into a city in the desert
two men and a woman approach me
the woman looks deep into my eyes
''you can use these ants
as a hallucinogenic... they're california harvesters...
but you have to swallow them alive...'' she says
i grimace
''er, thanks but no thanks!.."
then as some sort of explanation
''...i'm a vegetarian!''
i lie down under the hot sun in the shade of some large red rocks
and i dream about rachael biggs: model by day and human sushi platter by night
and spongebob squarepants
and charlotte perkins gilmans florid yellow wallpaper
and arthur machen
and quantum mechanics
and φ the golden ratio
and dimethylene tryptamine blacklight lanterns & acid
and the invaders 'nightmare' & the forbidden planet
and the nylon man: he melted at 263°C
and the moki snake dance which brings on the rainy season
and natural harvest: a collection of semen-based recipes by fotie photenhauer
did you know that the natural world has an instinct to alter consciousness?
and that multiple wasp stings are known to induce mildly hallucinogenic effects
such as increasing the intensity of colours and the perception of geometric forms
and i dream about orgone
and wilhelm reich and his son
john dee
nikola tesla
and david elieser deutsch
and mihail kalatozov
to err is human...to forgive is not our policy: the massachusetts institute of technology assassins guild
reality and hyperreality: is there a difference?
and then i dream about home
flowery fields
and lark hill
and the bollin valley
and the river m
and bowdon
and goosey green
and C.o.M.
and the stange matter hypothesis
and the strange language of the pirahã
and the schwarzgerät
and wabi-sabi
and george shipman talking to an imaginary martian
and egyptian hieroglyphs linear b and the eldritch glyphs of the maya
and sabbatai zevi publically uttering the forbidden YHVH
and the golem arising to defend the jewish ghetto's of prague during the 16th century pogroms
and language which is just a virus from outer space
and a planeload of rabbis and mystics hold an airborne prayer meeting over C.o.M.
in the belief that it will help check the spread of swine flu
and robert clarke's the hideous sun demon is playing to an empty house
and so is my father's piano
and then i dream der maya tapestrie
and there was a crack in his head
and a little bit of the dark world came through
and pressed him to death
and i dream of k & b & d
and harin starkje
and hitch underleary lucy molloy and mex
and i wonder where they are at this moment
and bid is in his studio under the stairs
with his collection of guitars & basses & moogs & jupiter-8's
and brion's in his big white house on tempest drive
and chris cult is always searching in vain
for something that's been right under his nose all along
and then i dream of st b who is always around anyway
and nicky bonfire
and aurora & wlw
and páll & kristin
and marc & june bolan
and the dawn star
and syd
and arthurly
and bob calvert
and lennon & harrison
and sky sunlight saxon
and the girl up a tree on a swing
and licorice
and the swan girl
and that girl from dream #17544
and little miss nowhere
and just another field but what they planted there
and caz the psykick hit(wo)man
and the blue pig
and little sue in st albans
and mandy
and our lady of the lights
and a being with five billion mouths
billy pilgrim unstuck in time
klarkash-ton stranded in greenland-hyperborea
and what about determinism
do we have a free will?
and writers don't own their words
since when do words belong to anybody
i dream about an old old man
who practises divination by interpreting dreams
and my dreams are becoming like films
i just sit back and watch as the stories unfold
the images come and go
and the old man's granddaughter is an obscure artist
she performed once with annie sprinkle
in the legend of the ancient sacred prostitute
and i dream of quantum immortality and the mwi
and i'm sitting beneath the branches of holy yggdrasil
there appears three maidens deep in the knowledge
and the magus zoroaster meets his doppelgänger walking in the garden
comes running to me for help
and all i can do is to point him in the direction of the three maidens
and i meet a small boy who thinks i'm his mother
i have her face he says
and i must give it back if i am not her
but i turn into a bird and fly off over the water
and then over the border into alejandrina
and i enter the library there
it's full of cobwebs
there's dust everywhere
i can't find the book i want
or the exit
and time is pressing
and i feel as if I have already died
and am now living a posthumous existence
and everything is temporary
and what if i wasn't there in the physical
until the three of you dreamed me into being
and i awake years later in the cave of the seven sleepers
and i am walking down artists lane
and it's so stormy up here
as i walk out onto stormy point
the storm nymphs are dancing barefoot under the dark sky
the lemonades are dancing barefoot in the meadows
and johnny echols cuts loose on his 'lectric guitar
drowns out my words
and i have been moved from my office in the city
to one that looks identical but is in an unfamiliar suburb
something is afoot: my boss and the rest of the staff work at both locations
and something is in the trees...it's coming
and i'm climbing a mountain made of gold
and i plant my flag on the summit
and i've been to the moon
stepped across the sea of rains and the sea of serenity
and i saw behind the moon
saw further than i ever saw before
and something is in the hills...i could hear it stirring
and then somebody finds a neolithic map of mars carved into stones
buried beneath the grasslands of cerrigydrudion
which leads us to believe that it was once covered by a vast ocean
but the map has been discovered ten thousand years too early
mars is arid and the machines which will flood the planet have yet to be invented
but nobody knows this
except you and i
and the nature of time is this:
it is passing and it is passing and it is passing
and the nature of space is this:
it is here and it is here and it is here
and the nature of reality is this:
it is hidden and it is hidden and it is hidden

Daye 61 / The Celestial Tree

Daye 60 / Say I Am You

i am dust particles in sunlight
i am the round sun
to the bits of dust i say stay
to the sun keep moving
i am morning mist
and the breathing of evening
i am wind in the top of a grove
and surf on the cliff
mast rudder helmsman and keel
i am also the coral reef they founder on
i am a tree with a trained parrot in its branches
silence thought and voice
the musical air coming through a flute
a spark of stone
a flickering in metal
both candle
and the moth crazy around it
rose and the nightingale lost in the fragrance
i am all orders of being
the circling galaxy
the evolutionary intelligence
the lift and the falling away
what is and what isn't
you who know jelaluddin
you the one in all
say who i am
say i am you
~ Rumi (Mevlana Jelaluddin Rumi)

Daye 58 / Soon I Will Feel I Will Feel O I Will Feel

soon i will feel i will feel o i will feel the lights of the noon across my hands and i will be a small blue shadow moving silently amongst the fields.

the summer begins to float away and i give to you all of my starry dreamings and imaginings. i take them in my arms and i throw them into the fields. into the seas that surround us.

i steel myself against the karma that is due.

and i meet you that night. o i meet you that night under the elf-lights. you were a small face shining beneath a tall tree in the blue wood. i remember the long moonlit walk through the shapes and colours. o the shapes and the colours. through the leas and lanes. and come the morning. asleep in the dawn. o dew falling. o river roaring. i have burned within my mind. within my mind your image.

and i am down and you are over. but i hear you singing. i leap across. across the void into the unknown. o the unknown.

into the spaces marked only with x’s on the map at university heights. calling for my brilliant angel to be here. o be here. to illuminate my way.

i have called for my mother but she slowly suffocates me in her arms. i have called for another.

and the material has been my god. i have laid down in the tall grasses. o the tall grasses. and cried for that which i cannot have.

i played unfair and the winter encases me in ice but i am ready to thaw.

i have dreamed the key to the metareal and pulled it out of the hollow of an old tree.

“now you must be reborn into the body of a crocodile” says the puck who showered me once with scarlet poppy petals.

and i am back in the egg. small and helpless. and my second-sight has deserted me.

Daye 57 / Come Now My Child...

Daye 56 / Corn Rigs (The Rigs O' Barley)

it was upon a lammas night
when corn rigs are bonnie
beneath the moon's unclouded light
i held away to annie
the time flew by with careless heed
till 'tween the late and early
with small persuasion she agreed
to see me through the barley
corn rigs and barley rigs
and corn rigs are bonnie
i'll ne'er forget that happy night
among the rigs with annie
the sky was blue
the wind was still
the moon was shining clearly
i set her down with right good will,
among the rigs o' barley
i kenned her heart was all my own
i loved her most sincerely
i kissed her over and over again
among the rigs o' barley
corn rigs and barley rigs
and corn rigs are bonnie
i'll ne'er forget that happy night
among the rigs with annie
i locked her in my fond embrace
her heart was beating rarely
my blessings on that happy place
among the rigs o' barley
but by the moon and stars so bright
that shone that hour so clearly
she aye shall bless that happy night
among the rigs o' barley.
corn rigs and barley rigs
and corn rigs are bonnie
i'll ne'er forget that happy night
among the rigs with annie
i have been blythe with comrades dear
i have been merry drinking
i have been joyful gathering gear
i have been happy thinking
but all the pleasures ever I saw
though three times doubled fairly
that happy night was worth them all
among the rigs o' barley
corn rigs and barley rigs
and corn rigs are bonnie
i'll ne'er forget that happy night
among the rigs with annie
~ Robert Burns

Daye 55 / D.M.T. Entity

Daye 54 / The Man Who Drew Cats

Daye 53 / It's Always Wet In P.a.u.l.'s Room

the mist was coming off the lake
as i caught hold of the rocket's tail
and it pulled me into the sky
rolling so i could see underneath
m15's greenish smear
spreading itself below
and the wind stings my eyes
beneath the dazzle of white stars
i heard myself singing
as i sped forward
some sweet song
which you had placed in my mind
the words made me sleepy
and the melody began to run away from me
like droplets rushing down a window in a summer rain

we fly into a cloud
a cloud
a cloud put there by the military
filled with crystals of strange ice
nothing that was warm lived in there
nothing living lived in there
and we left as fast as we entered
as the rocket began to come apart
as the cloud begins to come apart
turning to
turning to water
water
to water
falling to earth

there is no wind where the riverruns
into the cold grey foaming sea
and the fog rises up and outwards
like the sheet ghost
in whistle and i'll come to you, m'lad
scintillating jewels hang from your necklace
the light that flickers
on/off on/off
is the city beneath the surface of the mythological sea
ruby red arising
and lascivious green
a blacklight lantern
which i hold in a dream
makes shadows which criss-cross the water
to the source of the lights
in freefall i cry out
for that dream-lantern once more
though my lungs were beginning to give up
'cos i was flying so hard
i was flying so hard
and humming harder
hmmmmmmm
oh all the saints
oh, the saints preserve us
that god-given beam of light
launchs me up
out of the seafog
and on into the stratosphere

and the stars enlarged
but they came too soon
all the while my belly ached from laughing
like a poetess i was getting all of this down
word for word
my mind for once swollen with the knowing
inky black innerspace invading the outerspace
my rocket dials hitched
a flick of a switch
and i am holding on for dear life
said my goodbye
said my goodbye
goodbye
now you can sit and watch
as i burn-up
as i burn-up on re-entry

uh, i'm back
watery wet
wet
this room is
always wet
through the window the stars are dripping
and the moon is a milky bubble
and i have remembered my self
and i was humming like an angel

the man from the government contacts me
as soon as all the dreamtime summer festivals are over
he has a kosmiche fever
star-stuff oozing from every pore
he asks me questions
and tells me i have something that belongs to him
i lie and try to hide the lantern
while it does it's best to give me away
and so the man leaves
returns moments later
with a couple of heavies
but i am not taken in
by promises or threats
begin to hum to myself
i fool them into believing
i would give them the lantern
until at the last minute i thrust my hand
into a secret panel in the wall
where the lantern is hidden
and flick the little switch
ha! the humming and
the beam of light
launch me up and out of there

harin says my house is always dreaming
always dreaming
and that it has things living in it that only we can see
she has no fear of the future
for she can remember exactly what will happen when and to whom
and now that the soft soft night is here at last
singing to us
and the stars are revolving in their heavenly firmament
far enough away so as to gently oscillate
she calls up a solar wind
an hour or two of sweet irradiation
and the words
the melody
the gush into being
the pristine long lick of a song
which i hold onto like a dream

the men have tracked me
i see them
out the corners of my eye
at night they try to break into my dreams
they covet the song as much as the lantern
so the whole of my existence
has been falsified
declassified documents fall into my hands
and then mysteriously disappear
this is a war between realities
the psychedelic christ is here
stooping to conquer
with mind-expanding drugs and miracles

harin is in a dead faint
all she could see was everything
and the boys the boys
the boys were looking to me for leadership
i had snuffed out my lantern
and i was dripping with the bright
by the time harin's swoon was over
and she had alighted
those government men were rolling their heads
against the breasts of their joyless girls
one by one they dropped their fronts
and it made me smile
watching those silly young things
pretending to be
pretending to be
something they would never be
just reminded me of me
when i was...
when i was...
still too feint
still too feint
to get my mojo working

ah, but now it's 2010 or 3019
or whatever year it is
's all the same to me
dates make no
make no difference
we are plugged into something
something that is not time extant
we are ready for it
we belong together
reality is melting
as fast as the useless plastic and chrome that fills our homes
time slips
the city shakes
my blacklight lantern still glows
even as the aether jumps like a fish in boiling water
and the heavens split open
the prophets are driving us all insane
with their endless yabbering
dust
invisibility
we all know that nothing is real except maya

i'm the original doubting thomas
my lantern in my arms
through the ceilings we fly
and i still don't believe
i have to put my fingers
directly into the crack in his head
to massage his pineal
to convince myself that it is really...
...him

he sighs
so, you have failed the acid test
says the psychedelic christ
did you dream me in the past?
if not, then why should you no longer believe?
blessed are they that have not seen
and yet have believed

my freaked out voice
and undertuned guitar were long gone
i gazed into his eyes
and they were low blue spirals
"it's funny how things can change
in just a few millenia
once i turned water into wine
now i must turn water into...
into...
into ayahuasca
...dmt
...acid.." he sighed
"i have become little more than a pusher..."
i thought then of patti smith
and the stars twinkled in the noir crayola field that we call sky
and i tripped and dropped my hand in his

here 'tis
do i feel it coming
here 'tis
i feel it coming
illuminate my daye
ah, give me back my grace
help me come to my senses
like a dreamer
like a bird
like a dancer
like a child
no longer can i live in the dark
my mind is flooded
like nuvoletta
i reflect myself in the mirror
though the heavenly one
with his constellatria and his emanations
stood between

the sun rises
the universe is an automaton
i get out of my bed
the floor is wet
the day is already folding in on itself
i see geodesics through my window
in the fried green fields
cloud nines and mellotron flutes
auroras and snowstorms
seeing and hearing everything at once
and i'm trying hard
still humming
i will travel to the isle of apples
i must find him her again
i reach for my lantern
but today there is no lantern
just this beam of light
which launches me up and through the roof

Daye 52 / The Astral Body

Daye 51 / Nuvoletta

nuvoletta in her lightdress
spunn of sisteen shimmers
was looking down on them
leaning over the bannistars
and listening all she childishly could

she was alone
all her nubied companions
were asleeping with the squirrels
she tried all the winsome wonsome ways
the four winds had taught her
she tossed her sfumastelliacinous hair
like la princesse de la petite bretagne
and she rounded her mignons arms
like mrs. cornwallis-west
and she smiled over herself
like the image of a pose of a daughter
of the emperour of irelande
and she sighed after herself
as were she born to bride with tristus
tristior tristissimus
but sweet madonine she might fair as well
have carried her daisy's worth to florida

oh, how it was duusk!
from vallee maraia to grasyaplainia
dormimust echo
a dew! ah dew! it was so duusk
that the tears of night began to fall
first by ones and twos
then by threes and fours
at last by fives and sixes of sevens
for the tired ones were wecking
as we weep now with them
o! o! o! par la pluie!

then nuvoletta reflected for the last time
in her little long life
and she made up all her myriads
of drifting minds in one
she cancelled all her engauzements
she climbed over the bannistars
she gave a childy cloudy cry
nuée! nuée!
a lightdress fluttered
she was gone
~ James Joyce

Daye 50 / The Rime Of The Ancient Mariner

Daye 49 / He Has Found The Point Where Heaven And Earth Meet...

Daye 48 / Wings

day by day
the moon gains on me
day by day
the moon gains on me
purchased a pair of flabby wings
i took to doing some hovering
here is a list
of incorrect things
hovered mid-air outside a study
an academic kneaded his chin
sent in the dust of some cheap magazines
his academic rust could not burn them up
i recruited some gremlins
to get me clear of the airline routes
i paid them off with stuffing from my wings
they had some fun with those cheapo airline snobs
the stuffing loss made me hit a time-lock
i ended up in the eighteen sixties
i’ve been there for one hundred and twenty five years
a small alteration of the past
can turn time into space
ended up under ardwick bridge
with some veterans from the u.s. civil war
they were under irish patronage
we shot dead a stupid sergeant
but I got hit in the crossfire
the lucky hit made me hit a time-lock
but when I got back
the place I made the purchase
no longer exists
i’d erased it under the bridge
day by day
the moon gains on me
day by day
the moon gains on me
so now I sleep in ditches
and hide away from nosey kids
the wings rot and feather under me
the wings rot and curl right under me
a small alteration of the past
can turn time into space
small touches can alter
more than a mere decade
wings
wings
wings...
~ Mark E. Smith

Daye 47 / I Dream I See You Endlessly Superimposed Upon Yourself

i dream i see you endlessly superimposed upon yourself
you're sitting on the high coral stool
In front of your mirror
always in its first quarter
two fingers on the water wing of your comb
and at the same time
you're returning from a journey
you're lingering
the last one left in the grotto
streaming with lightning
you don't recognize me
you're stretched out on the bed
you wake up or you fall asleep
you wake up where you went to sleep or somewhere else
you're naked
the elderberry ball bounces again
a thousand elderberry balls hum above you
so light that at each instant you're unaware of them
your breath
your blood
saved from the crazy juggling of the air
you cross the street
the cars hurled at you are nothing but their shadows
and as a little girl
caught in a bellows of sparkles
you jump rope
long enough so that the one green butterfly
which haunts the peaks of Asia
can appear at the top of the invisible stairway
i caress everything that was you
in everything that's yet to be you
i hear the melodious hissing
of your limitless limbs
the one serpent in all the trees
your arms at whose center the crystal of the compass rose turns
my living fountain of shivas
~ Andre Breton

Daye 46 / The Song Of Shadows

sweep thy faint strings, musician
with thy long lean hand
downward the starry tapers burn
sinks soft the waning sand
the old hound whimpers
couched in sleep
the embers smoulder low
across the walls the shadows
come and go

sweep softly thy strings, musician
the minutes mount to hours
frost on the windless casement weaves
a labyrinth of flowers
ghosts linger in the darkening air
hearken at the open door
music hath called them, dreaming
home once more
~ Walter de la Mare

Daye 45 / Flying Saucers Rock 'N' Roll

i
The sheets were soaking
wet pajama tops sticking to hot belly
i rolled over and jimmied my flashlight
from its safety slot between the mattress and the boxspring
ha! my belly was still a deep prickly pink
it burned my hand just to touch
i pressed the flashlight into my palm to make
a red x-ray halo 'round my fingers
i leaned over the bed to fish for my tuning fork
and my stethoscope
but the sudden movement made me dizzy
i tried to get my thoughts moving in a cold stream
so i could tell them everything when they got home
logic was moving in a wave of blue glass balls
the bed was wet
my hair was damp
but my body was still hot
it meant i didn't sweat the fever out
it might mean a warm tea enema later on
that slick tube up my bottom
the atmosphere was falling apart
amoeba shapes started rushing
where was my raygun?

someone was in my bedroom
it wasn't mommy cause they were still at the hospital
it was something female like the amana refrigerator lady
only with the silky red face of a fox
her big head rocked
no flash at all beamed from her glass eyes
she was offering up a tray of gleaming objects
miniature diver's tools
luminous disks
and a black plastic whistle the shape of a cigar
there were sharp hairy jewels and headphones connected with the source of the music
the low fender whine
but I went for that whistle
my mouth was all shiny and burny
i could barely puff 'cause i was crying so hard but i tried and tried 'til i did
and the shine pulled me right out of the heat into cool greyfalling back into a sea of black curtain.

stefanie died
they came home real late
their eyes were red from crying but not as red as my belly
like a true child I was sinister enough to interrupt their grief by discharging symptoms
belly smeared with pin pricks
sickly sulphur ooze and the fear of littered space behind my eyes
the doctor said it was scarlet fever
i knew better
he quarantined me
and sister had to look at me thru a telescope

time warped
my dresses shrunk
it was 1957
stefanie was dead
rock 'n' roll was rising and I had seen my first ufo
it was shaped like an eleven-year-old girl with colorless eyes.

they gave me her comic books and her iceskates but I wouldn't touch them
they had her yellow energy spread all over them
i just laid there sliding my fingers around my whistle
it had a real comforting texture like the back of a boy's neck
i laid there for years
the sheets developed the spinal eye they used to call my back
i laid there and listened for that future music
to lull me outta this separate limbo called childhood

ii
mama said i was born old
i always had this absolute swagger about the future
and a morbid foto-recall of the past
i could remember exactly how it felt in the womb
snow was falling
jimi hendrix was singing are you experienced?
i was turning on a spit in a sea of vomit cleanser
a wall of sound intoxicating rhythm
and as close as my face
a breath
a session of hesitation
and the bells
the troops
the 21-gun salute
the push into promise
and that first long animal cry of love like a fender whine

destiny plagued me
i never slept
I laid
and watched the night unravel like the future
music crystallized like snowflakes
gradually the entire storm
guitar necks sticking out of the ground like bayonets
the war between sounds
alexander coming to conquer with a fender and a saucer
i knew it was coming and I wanted to be in on it
i knew it came and went and i wasn't in on it.

i was at this party
all I knew was james brown and somebody put on "third stone from the sun"
everybody was looking at me
so I pulled out my whistle
the one shaped like a cigar with black pick-ups
by the end of "foxy lady" it was pure amp damage
they were banging their pates into the plaster but i was laughing hysterically
the ones who ripped their wigs fascinated me the most
to watch these bald and slick comet shapes rushing the walls
it reminded me of something
but i was too giddy to get my mind shining
i wasn't in on it
wasn't in on it
i couldn't stand it
i wasn't born to be a spectator

it was 1966 '67 '68
every place i went it was somebody else
i could-not-live-today
too plugged into sanguine rhythms past and the silver video we call future
here i come future
coming to get ya
i see it all moving on an immense yellow highway
they come on like trumpets and violins
cars
armies of cars that move off the ground
glowing cigar shapes
and the radio just pumps like a fist
brick roads
turnpikesthey drive me insane 'cause I can see what's coming
elp
elo
nothing real 'cept ufo
got to be royal rock warfare cause it's sitting in limbo
not what was and not what will be
rock got to move out of its stagnant moment
pray for something bubbling under the sky's canopy to rip open and rush like gas

i was the same old party
i put the whistle on the tray
it went reeling
It was happening again
i was overcome but it didn't matter
i just did what the rest of my gggg-generation did
didn't duck heads up and get creamed by the '60s
everything that happened it was somebody else.

"this your wristwatch?"
"no"
"you an artist by any chance?"
"no"
"freelance?"
"no"

no-no-no-no-monotonous bells long bong
i looked at jimi hendrix's hands
they were so immense they could push a face thru wax
etch and spear spinal stars in the noir crayola field we call sky
'scuse me!
i tripped and dropped my hand in his
it la la la landed like an insect nest and all the red wire spiders jabbed in his flesh like g-strings
it was easy to transform everything into guitar strings
hair
grass
fingers illuminated calligraphy
everything was something else
a sound was a room
a spongy layer of flesh
a trampoline of tissue
rubberish tissue
a laugh
a kiss . . .

i had to get out
i got to get out
i got out
trunk up the used drapery
gonna be a new party
children will go to the party
roll down a snowbank
eject a floodlight and the new experience will be totally ecstatic
someone's destiny will be his diver's tool that makes the incision in his chest and relax his fist over the heart and
pump it pump it thru the veins of space
the soul-ar radio breaking into snowflake light
hammering harmonics from the heart of a boy with colorless eyes
whose neck is the texture of the back of a whistle

blow-blow
the diaphragm is such-a-kinky machine
i got to get out of bed
the walls are damp and the masking tape is curling
magazine pictures of stratacasters
telecasters
jazz masters and ariel views of saucer-shaped pits slide to the floor
coffee
cigarettes
the moves of mama early in the morning
i water the cactus
from my sixth floor window I can see another window
a boy is smiling and to my right no clouds, no sun, no stones, no nothing
just a host of black cigar shapes whining in the pink skin sky
~ Patti Smith

Daye 44 / Shoes

summer this year is so hot
C.o.M. is melting
and i'm lying on the lawn
of my parents garden
and this song about somebody's shoes
is coming at me from out of the radio
the deejay talks over the intro
i can't tell whether it's a man
or a woman who's singing
because the pitching is 'funny'
and the music is so
dreamy heavenly churchly
that i have to stop what i’m doing
and just listen
i put down the comic
i had been reading a moment before
i close my eyes
and oh, here comes another of those
little daydreams
then i notice that the song
isn't about shoes
it's about a wedding
and something isn't quite right with the celebrations...
the lyrics take a weird turn
the singer is singing about how the bride’s mother
'..didn't give her abuse...'
because
'...she didn't forget her shoes'

now my stomach is churning and
my little back-garden daydream
is beginning to turn bad
the beat grows a little more frantic
the song turns all hurdy gurdy
a bouzouki and a harspsichord appear out of thin air
the music is becoming wilder
and i am as intoxicated
as the guests at the wedding must be
i want to join them
to join in the frolicking
the groom is getting
'..a glance from the other girls'
and i can feel that something
sexual is about to happen
but i haven't discovered
exactly what sexual is yet
so i can only guess
why those other girls are smiling
as johnny picks up his bride
off they go together
to make love
while music fills the air...

the throbbing hurdy gurdy
cuts to a piano
and an angelic choir
i wonder whether
my own wedding day will be as strange
as the one in this song
it will be but i don't know that yet
the angelic choirs have disappeared
i’m not sure that i haven’t
just dreamed the whole song
am i awake?
a fuzzy guitar is buzzing in my ear
like an irritated bee
the beat returns
the wedding guests are still dancing madly
everything is out of control
i open my eyes and i look down
the lawn looks funny
somebody is playing a harpsichord again
but it sounds far too close-up
to be coming from the radio
i look up
the blue sky looks too blue
too far away
and here comes the choir
the children at the wedding
are lalalalalala-ing
into the songs conclusion
and the stupid deejay is talking
over the fade
but i can't hear what he's saying anyway
because the radio is crackling
i just manage to catch the singers name
as a rumble of thunder
sounds in the distance
i repeat it like a mantra
over and over under my breath
syllable by syllable
rep-ah-rah-ta
rep-ah-rah-ta
rep-ah-rah-ta
even the singer's name sounds like a hallucination

Daye 43 / The Stratospheric Colossus Of Sound

Daye 42 / The Navigator

Daye 41 / The Greenfly And The Rose

all good things must end
the straightest rose will bend
its colours droop and wilt
just like a love affair
the pink sensation fades
the sterling silver fades
the virgo and blue moon
soon they're just wrinkled things
the baccara
the flame red superstar
forever yours
a rose called peace
for at night the aphids dream
a microlocust's dream
they eat the world alive
and there's not a morsel left
they eat the jungle leaves
consume the wheatfield sheafs
they eat the flowers and plants
they eat their stalks as well
as their tiny jaws
munch on planet cores
their complex eyes
examine the skies
they eat the cumuli marshmallow of the sky
they eat away the blue
and they eat the sun and moon
they swallow all the stars
and both the moons of mars
they lick the plate of space
they lick their lips as well
the baccara
the flame red superstar
forever yours
a rose called peace
the greenfly and the rose
~ Robert Calvert

Daye 40 / A Quaint Old Bretagne Ballad

this lady was neither pig nor maid
and so she was not of the human mould
not of the living nor the dead
her left hand and foot were warm to touch
her right as cold as a corpse’s flesh
and she would sing like a funeral bell
with a ding-dong tune

the pigs were afraid
and viewed her aloof
and women feared her and stood afar
she could do without sleep
for a year and a day
she could sleep like a corpse
for a month and more
no one knew how this lady fed
on acorns or on flesh

some say that she’s one of the swine-possessed
that swam over the sea of gennesaret
a mongrel body and a demon soul
some say she’s the wife of the wandering jew
and broke the law for the sake of pork
and a swinish face for a token doth bear
that her shame is now
and her punishment coming
~ J. Sheridan Le Fanu

Daye 39 / Ode To Billy Joe

when i was a little kid
my dad had this bobbie gentry cassette
and i remember playing
'ode to billy joe'
over and over and over
the opening lines of the first verse
('it was the third of june,
another sleepy dusty delta day...')
made me feel woozy
and by the time
bobbie gets to the line about
billy joe jumping off the tallahatchie bridge
i felt like i was floating outside of my body
the song is desolate
a gothic classic
as a five-year old
even i recognized that the matter-of-fact way
in which the suicide is discussed over dinner
by the narrator's family
is not the norm
it made my skin crawl
and i wondered why the girls family
were oblivious to her pain
why they had no idea
that billy joe was her 'secret' lover
and i worried whether her parents
really cared about her
and the more i thought
about that question
the more i began to worry
whether my own parents
really cared about me
it became my obsession
it shook me
i withdrew
questioned everything
looked for signs in the things
that happened around me
i hated to be away from my home
or from my parents
in case i returned to find
everything or everybody changed
i went over the lyrics in my head
searching for something that i may have missed
for a clue or a reassurance
i imagined i could travel back in time
to affect the outcome of the song
billy joe would be saved
and he and the girl could live happily ever after
i tried
i tried prayer
but the song’s outcome never changed
billy joe always jumped off the tallahatchie bridge
and his girl was always left
to spend the rest of her life pickin' flowers on choctaw ridge
and as for myself
i could never bear to imagine
what it was that billy joe
& the girl
had thrown from the bridge
i had been traumatised by a pop song
and it wouldn’t be the last time

Daye 38 / The Most Haunted House In England

Daye 37 / Foaming Bays

it seemed a nice way to start a day
shipped in sheba's foaming bay
a distant swimmer in a sea of trees
and then a bleached man with juggler's hands
scaled an oak to understand
the childlike sweetness in the sky's blue breeze

goddess in the fortress
of the world is just a slaughteress
so let's grow into the sky
just like a grove of trees

I danced thunderbound up to the mound
of past and present pleasures found
all caged and guarded by the eyes of
blind river men with twisted limbs
devised to choke the throats of kings
robed in willow woven skins of hind
~ Marc Bolan

Daye 36 / Jabberwocky

'twas brillig, and the slithy toves
did gyre and gimble in the wade
all mimsy were the borogoves
and the mome raths outgrabe

"beware the jabberwock, my son!
the jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
beware the jubjub bird, and shun
the frumious bandersnatch!"

he took his vorpal sword in hand
long time the manxome foe he sought
so rested he by the tumtum tree
and stood awhile in thought

and as in uffish thought he stood
the jabberwock, with eyes of flame
came wiffling through the tulgey wood
and burbled as it came!

one, two! one, two! and through and through
the vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
he left it dead, and with its head
he went galumphing back

"and hast thou slain the jabberwock?
come to my arms, my beamish boy!
o frabjous day! callooh! callay!"
he chortled in his joy

'twas brillig, and the slithy toves
did gyre and gimble in the wade
all mimsy were the borogoves
and the mome raths outgrabe
~Lewis Carroll

Daye 35 / Swan Girl

Daye 34 / Bottle-Trees

Daye 33 / The Nightmare

Daye 32 / The Song Of Wandering Aengus

I went out to the hazel wood
because a fire was in my head
and cut and peeled a hazel wand
and hooked a berry to a thread

and when white moths were on the wing
and moth-like stars were flickering out
I dropped the berry in a stream
and caught a little silver trout

when I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire a-flame
but something rustled on the floor
and some one called me by my name
it had become a glimmering girl
with apple blossom in her hair
who called me by my name and ran
and faded through the brightening air

though I am old with wandering
through hollow lands and hilly lands
I will find out where she has gone
and kiss her lips and take her hands
and walk among long dappled grass
and pluck till time and times are done
the silver apples of the moon
the golden apples of the sun
~William Butler Yeats

Daye 31 / Licorice

licorice they named her
after one of the girls
from the incredible string band
wonderous were her eyes
raven-coloured her hair
like her namesake
disappeared into the ether
I came home one evening
in november
the house was dark and still
and she was no longer there
left only a cool note
in a spidery-light hand
and fifteen short fragments of song
one for each emotion
that she had known on that autumn day
and I don’t know where she is
or whether she wants to be found
but I once saw her sitting on a moonbeam
when she was still dreaming of me
watched as she stooped to kiss
the flowers for hours and hours
I saw her face on the low grey cloud
on a snowy december morning
find her floating in a tiny boat
on a becalmed lake
she is disguised as robin puck
when I awake
as a child in a field of poppies
she appears as pan
when I am lost in the willow wood
only now do I recognize her masquerade
as the morning star
one time in swansea at dawn
long ago
and as the evening star
in flowery fields one dusk
recall that in a previous life
she had lived in a big house on tempest drive
then see far into her future life
when she’ll live in the slums of mumbai
and I’ll travel to some far-off planet
where aldebaran is hovering above us
mmm, how crimson and eerily pretty she'll look
in that failing star’s light
in a wintery lane
star-gazing
she slaps my face
when I mistake her for a spiral galaxy
and tell her she is beautiful
she has become the motherstorm
blowing in from across the atlantic
to wash away the great green irish sea
she’s the simultaneous equation
to which their can never be a solution
and the golden flash of light
that streaks overhead
as we lay in the long soft grass
one balmy august
and from high on a hillside in disley
I can still see her gathering
mushrooms in the half-light
and hear her in the harmonium
that begins to play itself the next night
as I lay half-asleep on the rug by the fire
she floats over to whisper at me
that she is here