Studying Hunger Journals, page 13
A little peach of emerald hue
Warmed by the sun and wet by the dew
It grew
One day passing the orchard through
Came Johnny Jones and his sister Sue
Those two.
The rest of the story went: they ate the green peach and died. We memorized it and elocuted it and then it electrocuted us or at least me. Research this. All the sixth graders are 27 now and icy cold housewives putting their babies in a bath or worn-down torn-down struggling men hate to come home old linoleum and tiles and plastic eats, only one architect among them and a few phony teachers, they dream let’s slap the kids around and steal their clothes and send them home for good and maybe a few good priests and nuns visions of suds in the air, it’s not fair of me, whose blouse is clean, whose blouse is cleanest, before your own eyes, squirrel digs up a nut in shell and runs wrong way away, no memory of it. Come clean. I’d like to see his storehouse. I’m drawing a picture of mine.
Pat Nixon and the street gangs, complete gangs to come home to, I live in the white house I residue the lawn every morning and take out the crap that diplomats accumulate behind their tails and drop on the cushions and rugs like dolphins, they don’t need to bother to control, with muscles, the movements of their bowels and urinary tracts, they just shit and piss all over whenever they please, in the morning at night at dinners of state, in state rooms, in cubicles for secret meetings, in rooms larger than a whale’s stomach, in the tiniest dishes and plates and on the most enormous of platters, left on the floor, in front of uniformed guards and ticklish generals, on the serpentine lawn, in the closet hanging coats, under the ashtrays just laid out, and in the spittoon, on the president’s best cigars, in his humidor, in his presence, all over his residence, by accident, some piss up on his portrait as it flies by on the wall.
And now I consider them precious, nice weather we’re having, isn’t it? I panicked again, I love you to fit it all in we could sink back into the pillows forever and ever, take me down to the next corner where I will try and get a present for Max, this has just occurred to me: your thoughts must be just as clustered and dare I say it fond and confusing as mine except that you explorer have access to either dynamite or magic, a verge, a magic wand or rod, to measure the land and lonely move around in there, weather, a fair amount freely of fear than me, amount of difference and concern, differential entropy of Fern, you’re right, signs and signals all along the noisy way, I was mad when I left you today, present for Max, panicked, cool taxi cool enough to bring tears to stinging eyes but not removed enough from the driver who’s also black and it’s nice to be close to him anyway, though I’d like to be far away, throw that away, home clean. Now what do I do with those two. It’s mud it’s a muddle it’s a mystery (sic) St. Thomas Aquinas was robbed by the angel-driver, he liked it, robbed of his fears, robbed tears, he considered his penis a distraction and threw it all away, tore up, you can lean on me, I change my size too, this might turn out to be the worst day of all in fall, mixed something up, lost it, who’s to exchange them surrounded by men who guard them with their life-lines left loose on purpose to be free somehow, I don’t feel nothing, I don’t feel same, I don’t worry anymore I won’t forget nothing I won’t ever feel same except when I feel the same something so how do you song forget your troubles, laugh richer, you might find something in the store, you say the simplest thing-thought you got and see what happens you say: who here wants to go to the store to search for something, you say you didn’t expect me so soon, so neither did I neither say it nor don’t like the great philosopher Pleistocene who entered Quattrocento quite right in the flowing so fast sometimes waters of the pretty dictionary. Dirty underwear, we don’t seem to wear none no more, let the dirt drift on out and in, it’s coming in, the well the better to survive it, the stream’s beneath the traffic, well it’s always always been there no matter what they do, street and clear running like a test tube experiment that no birds flying in the lab can ever shit in or sit in. Preserve it just the same. Hey Max walk me to the store. Which store? I feel it’s my duty to go to the store and get food. Three sweet potatoes one short and fat two long and fat three ears of corn two cold slabs of liver and honey I mean onions cold onions sweet sleep defines defined and one wonders as two: I never told you I can’t swallow pills I have to chew them up, we move around real carefully so we always make mistakes in rhythm and then they let you know how we feel, the stakes that we drive in. Splinter in. Time flies I’m not the center of things though I’m a master of mistakes, drive in the equilibrium band comes to play hey not right there on our doorstep while my self’s put out to catch flies on my knees rolled up to go fishing all alone, dinner is ready you fucked me up, ha ha upside down again, applause for the little weekend sink back and she does, yeah I think so, you wink at me, streamline the work you do and Saturdays are just the same days even though we change the wet sheets, black sheep, thoughts never ending winding our way down south to make our escape within the same landform without any passports, come in free, you could see a lot else there besides what you see me do, do you see.
Worse yet is the threat, area, loss, lands along the beautiful river explores explode, let’s keep let’s preserve, hear hear, do we have a fall, do we have liftoff, do we have currency, stick in your place, mental alert, run home, a well-run home, you’re on your own, what’s a hero come clean, the perfect human wants to know, will be very pissed off if I’m wrong, she walks away, athletes in the hands of far-speakers, guerillas, who’s that you want information, I got some sprawled on the bed, you read any good books lately, I’m busy and so are you but someone watching’s got nothing to do and I don’t think I’ll ever go outta the house again, discretely hung up, loose the terrorist phone and buried the dead ones who were attacked in high security who were bespoken severely cut off from even the furthest from perfect humans, who’s this your brother? Your father your mother your color-corrected eye lens glasses sweet cream desperadoes living underground, wait a minute, it’s eccentric, are they, does living there I mean little baby deer full of innocent cheer, doe-eyed and sophisticated, spindly-legged and invited to eat dinner for free. It’s too much for me. I give up. But in caves? Did I say caves? Or mounds or nests or just under a tree, yes, shit, I give up again too much for later.
Water in the sprite, an expensive repair. I come to tell you David, in white sequined evening gown and an undershirt but you’re at an “affair.”
Don’t this window open in air? I’m driving on up and swing open low and people move around in their cars, one hand for pen one for cigarette, no hand to cover my sunlight, it’s nice weather for the weekend, yes it looks that way but oh how does it look that way or stretch or suck now anyhow how drift so is as is, so drift towards you like this. Madam I’m as Adam as you are. Sprite gremlin, people worried about their health, the haze, how do we get there becalmed, sea’s a lot of footage to shoot, you can count on a big big movie. When I told you, when I told you, you believe this, when I told you I’m so tired oh go slow but please go fast I’m driving, blink for a second then come right through, aggravate the loss, excite it. Pins me down.
Pins me down I said, separate separate separate through, pins on the highway, pins on the floor, pins in the currency they sell in the store my store, psychoanalysis is a mere river feather that’s got bent, I’ll make a diary to you, I’ll make a diary through you, please come in the doors open, please come in I’m fine and high as the sky is blowing, high just enough to get by as a cloud writes as rain as the meaning says generating, can’t help itself, your name, by chance. What a topography we also are. Study. No study has ever been done on the mind of a man who, as a colonel, eats corn and spits half of it out when he talks in the sun, play with yourself, we could drive up with you in the dark except for divisions of labor and colonels of corn each word does a million works and sets itself up as knowledge for boring into like any of several insects that bore in maize, how’s the traffic today and what part of the city do you like best? What part do you live in and what do you hear, a century’s noted now and then, an ace turns up a few centuries more, which is older and hides the facts, I make my plans, I swim in the human whaddayou callit, whatever else the fuck I do too.
As soon as my babies get back I can eat sleep and breathe again free. Looks good for the weekend he said, one two three four, I was so scared when I got home why senectute senechdoche seneca and all the rest I’ve a classical black background in the heady slip-yourself-in and slide the worst women-haters of them all the men the priests, they temptation you to death, saint or not, suffering metonymies endlessly, sayings they say em all and run and jump in the fields by yourself long as you separate, long as you keep apart don’t desecrate the vessel is a sacrilege like hitting god right smack in the face with a nickel bag when he asks for me, I mean more, just like you, just like me, just like the rest of us flying free right out of our habits, hands and wrists come first and nestle on all the forbidden parts, pretty comfortable there, arms and breasts legs and thighs and all different kinds of genitals, all the kinds, touched. Screams on the streets, anathema sits there stoned on belladonna, out of its mind, right on the white line, waiting for cars, and laughing its head off for you and for me, anathema’s dick. Crunched in the teeth of the comic strip zone and drooled out the ears of a masculine legs-meet bucktooth nothing, nothing’s there, the metonymy’s a little man peering out his head and everyone sings in a chorus line: out of nothing! Out of nowhere! Out of educated guesses, no hands! Which one are you what can you do, what can I do that you can’t do, what we do is the same, what’s your last name, how does it ring in your ear, how does it echo your fear and stone, your forbidden faults, is what the wall’s made out of, that’s all, come over here, you got the right one, sings all over and does it all over again, he’s a master, he’s perfect, he’s out of his mind balancing a miracle, pure gold in a circle, can you stretch it out to there, a winning prize, oh shit—they were talking when they played the national anathema and just showing off their gold like cocks, what a disgrace for the nation’s cursed talisman, what a disgrace on the penises turning gold all gold and silver on the lamb.
Country starts begin to swing heading sweetly almost on the Taconic fantasy parkway as if I’ve said it before, armored with habits a bag full of cigarettes and pills and a new country only nothing to say. Black black air of summer, summer’s forty degrees at night somewhere and in South America it’s backwards, the space is small but it’s unique, ignore the lines, late night all night all talk in the safe with Max in car and images will appear before my very now own the own eyes.
I slept merry with guilt, I left another guilt home and dream merry-go-rounds and racks and rows of blouses, blouses without skirts, tied, I mean blouses for breasts and breasts in blouses, some pulled tight so you could see the shapes of the bodies of thought of the women who own them and plan to wear them and wore them before, see-through, and tied in back, yes breasts, you don’t write around the words, you don’t really write around them, period. I’ll remember that one, it’s not a dream, it’s a whole body of work I reviewed (with you), there is no way to forget it. Saké. Record saké.
In the Hancock morning I record I’m afraid of losing something as it’s far away or in with the trees, warm bread. Synergy. Example, example of blood continuously flowing but the sun is with you. Some thing in a dream about paying for something or everything here, reminds me of change of being transferred of being brought out of being illumined, we have lotsa money, of being taught and trained of being inclining towards something, the grass and leaves are almost invisible the windows if the house won’t open they are closed, everything about here reminds me of some part of myself and of terrible pain and the pleasure of denial, everything about here reminds me of some fault in interest or hobbies about here about me, swells of being someone else, how easy it’s been. Bees and sun a weak wreckage, storms never rage when you need them, I see the point of never raging anger being at the sharp of one as victim and one as cloth. Energy destroys it, energy warmth as pain and drift, I ignore the new words I hear for a moment and fight them, they aren’t you, I’m using you, you pass by, you pass through here, you’ve got my name wrong, my name is like ice the winter weather, these words can now can finally be thrown away. Clark eats away at the pronoun I and I eat Susan’s warm bread and strong sense, did I enter them here to discard them to allow you to discard them in any season in every season like protection from bees.
Something is reliable, nothing much lives in caves, everything generates fear and destroys it, anything destroys it, pestilence was once a thing that was opened, doubt and hesitation like I deny you is crusty, planned that way and whole windows fenestration balustrade, empty mountain underground deep even here trip of time, untime, you get away with nothing anything and so on, it eats up time, time is dissatisfied with the way things are, what things are, what is a question, someone will explain it, it’s unconvinceable, conceivable it cannot be convinced, I have to use it, it corrects stands up and the weight is on your back at the small, don’t care, stain the rock with reddest blood what a thing once more to get away with a presence, what one to be denied as if it once more was is something or isn’t sure of, negative space, an empty stone or drone or drome. I insist on continuing continuing country whatever writes itself in the air. I am sure you are there in the house. I am sure you are there in the cave and will come out, it is impossible to get away from anyone it is impossible to use leaves as you show them, it is impossible to locate space and anyway surround it. Even almost completely a slow progress of revelation I decide to ask the rearranging question, is it why wait, you are so patient, you are so dream once or twice a year and I am…I guess there’s hardly any way to finish it, it’s time to wake Max and us and go to our cave deaths for sure, aren’t we manufacturers of swim. Blood are storing are in our bodies in our ear even and sweeter ear known is as known for sure to be sweet, to obfuscate more besides bedsides where identities are shown, almost completely exhibited, almost completely shore and wait for more, I’ll never take one again to show a lot of iron feldspar and tin slowly flowing like rivers from the mouth of the cave that will eat you, find a spot and tense and tenser words between them, why are they eating why are they waiting so long what’s the difference between what they say and what they drew in pictures at night that we couldn’t see.
They’re ready to describe them, they leave some things out walking down the woods is what you notice some things get pointed out, eyes tuned to dream all over the dream space extends forever if you look, there’s no end in it, eye space tuned to dream, eyes tuned to woods, all eye space accommodates movement, directs toward it movement is an endless surround an endless depict, the trouble with style, come out come out wherever you are, it’s time to go to the cave there are scared white-haired slaves hiding there and my picture of you is a drift one that bleeds, accomplished revisions, drew crowds and was changed ever since like once you wince and I leave that out, I wish I could break out and curtains around the code and notify me as soon as you wake, ate, sentries enter and order the floor, this one is quaking this one is bent, summer measure is over if you drift north to see the foliage it’s fine and crispy and ready to change. Change means fall off. You get in. You are moved from the surface, everyone’s the same, sound of wind, pincers moving a murdered prospect design engineer no fear no image so must be fear, I tried to stay here longer but the rock I am sitting on grew and burst in red flames underneath me, made a kind of sac or hole in its own matter, a new texture for gray, feldspar and granite, a pure slate rock. Of course that was me. Two mountain ranges in space: something is in the clouds, something is not in the hose, you are the clouds. You are not the hose, patent leather expensive patents, everyone’s designs are bleeding fear and no one can mention it for fear of the trailers hooked up, long lines, back of the single energy word. What a supposition, once more and then so, you can throw that one away for good, I’ll eat it again for you: fear sure another, it’s simple and has designed a simple space, you don’t agree, you more a part of, you what I own sink into the same, we share it that is, so move around and expect a rest sooner or later and sing the best songs, I am hurrying, we have to go to the cave, again I say, the best leaves won’t work anymore, everyone’s busy, everyone has plans, and since they can move, and since they can move independent, and since men and women can, they don’t move me directly, they don’t sympathize with me. The words, I’ll use them all I’ll get away with it, deep earth the courage it takes to dry like a tent in the sun. So many absences for covers, a scene to speak an unrehearsed cone echoes out of itself, a spewing a spitting, stopped on a dime, what was the experience you tell what started it, what did you bring with you, I’m outside, what did you need that you didn’t bring repressed emotions are all over the messy tables so what? Skunks smell up to a certain level up to a certain pitch are fine, the biblical finals are driving there on their way home, all able to stop to eat. Why wouldn’t we? Who says better? Who the crutch fuck says even divine?
What’s the elegance of any crush, what’s the space of four people moving depending somehow on you and new ones to enervate on your way home, only the real strong and obvious are shared, like blind chickens bared for frying or something but the real small defining ones small so are wasted, wasted out one by one, one at a time by one or another one a different one by the way what work do you do, so the reason I mention work is there’s some things I learned from you and I don’t stop to listen normally I steal and sink ships and yours aspect just seems to be one of them, oceans no grudges against what they receive in a storm so such is not of their doing, hard away from their design, they have to move endless, they fill the frame, how dangerous every movement of life is, with much better than plan, only spots of sun and parent bugs strong ones of all colors, if you’re so screech scared then how can waiting you lie in the grass snoozing, something must hold it together sensibly that is to touch out like everything and start it all up forever, that is again and again, something must by peace of nature come out of parent nowhere and part with it to make life’s peace and leave a piece behind as part of it addressing you now, continuing on. Ice is cold the same substance is heat, I saw you once before as once is twice twice and nearly ready they had said it would be closed. So space subsumed a minute of so of itself then someone else could enter in, the drift it’s obvious is not in schools.
