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virola

9/21/2014

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la mordida / unto mexicano

9/12/2014

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LA PELONA / SNAKE LADY / CIHUACOATL

 

con banda: “great womb & tomb of all life”

            you’re not right for me snake lady

                        well you aint kickin my ass either

I dig the ravens & the eagles & the sea gulls

                        I’m into cosmic twins / mostly otters

me uttering udders / staring at those twins of yrs

                        me spreading black jelly on yr crackers

see you flushed rose toilet bowls I heard / I heard

                        I got fucking coral snakes for eyes man look at my fucking eyes man

            yeah & that / & I’m all funneled serpentine gyre

                        you elaborate symbols all too much man

            been listening to too much Grandmaster Melle Mel

                        yr eyes look red / yr left eye drooping

            yeah I got the droop syndrome as a matter of speaking

                        really writing

            really writing

                        can’t believe you follow Bukowski

            broken glass everywhere / people pissing on the street you know they just don’t

                        mailman / holes in face / ripping pages from philosophs

            care / rats in the front room / roaches in the back / people pissing / no / junk

                        & he probably never stopped to wipe his ass / never stopped boozing

you’re friend will arrive you fucking bowler speaking of junk

            bowl like  a snake / you fool

                        let me pass

            my cigarette / I set it in wax now it don’t smoke

                        watch yr hands

            I’m sucking like a motherfucker for a fucking hit

                        wash yr hands

            hear that raven

                        yr heart smacking like a motherfucker

            sniffing yr red headed goodness

                        special goodness motherfucker

            Brooklyn train still waiting

                        AKlaska night still raining

            think think

                         Brooklyn train still finding

            we’re surrounded by the green folks in this bar here & we didn’t even know

              Quetzalcoatl

 wants to go out still

            my head fucking aches

life forced to pass us / trying to try us / trying to type us

            yr goddamned tattoo running into new

            you goddamned limey running slimy fingers

                        only visited sold cigarettes no filters still eating foodstamps in my cart not mine printing t-shirts mostly white life driving listening to these piercing spears of whistles biting into my brain / my fucking brain / y’all yelling further still / cigarette burned into wax / imagine that / imagine base contagious clouds ripping from soul y mar / reflections from water tan more

                        where wind’s warmbreath

            there can be no smell of flesh in furnace

                        formed their castes solid like James Dean Plato sd / wrote / whatever trying to

hide here: yeah a tunnel

mirrors in the leaves / imagine her lashes daggers stabbed rumors branching like fingers imagine

these reserved coils stretching toward her snakes

old people rough to convince of a solid world smacking fresh wind into youthful faces but even Ginsburg got old & Burroughs too / & wild writing spreads like ashes smeared w/ a sponge then wiped clean again for rewipe ¿why write?  serpent eyes / coiled self symbol borrowed still from Yeats / turn like an urn Keats / ravens & eagles & totem poles wrapping one into the other & other still together /

            junk still filling empty vessel still pressing further into snakes for eyes

never a problem before

            never cared serpentine

never cared / coiled

            never stopped to think really think serpentine

never thought never a problem before

            but really / ¿why write? coiled

never to stop & really think never a problem before ravens big as jets

            lost lots between the head & hand

sure you do

            get that

you shd

            dig

a tunnel through the ocean chrome

            dig that chrome

some

            find

something there

            shadow

sparks

the killing dark not nearly as what yr face seems to stink transcribed

mitigate me it

burns faster than we predicted mother of Samuel Sister Revolution

revenging still the renege

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trenches

9/9/2014

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1

                                   now drunk to yr oblivion  



2

                                    stuck here constrained

3

                                    is a comfortable disease

4                                 

                                    holes of wholes

5

                                    two thousand years   

6

                                    knock beat

7

                                    nothing

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as in unattached; (from Alaska poems)

9/6/2014

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ofte konne expresse routhe

alas the heauy day: why do you weepe?

pitie

harken taketh heede 

alas, both for t’ deed and for t’ cause! 

heare (leisurely)

the allusive (alassive) phrase

passing yr words

wonder withe alas why Alaska sholde

share Helas!  call to alarums! alms 

Benedicite! reserving grief

certes wrapping it shiny-tight

writhing fighting gathering wits in guts 

coude mene really anything!

stode in the Safeway parking lot as

floatplane roared agayns ocean

alas,  vantage understode playne

ravens & seagulls, rain still falls (flatly faintly)

staring out of windows, whites of its paws

fog turns

blinks

green tresses of spruce trees

pink haze slicing needle hair

grass swells rain falls

pink haze of needle leaves

leave trees singing in rain

again rains rain fat globes of glob drops

cat crosses hops down calm

rain patting

world stands static

still think to own worlds

who owns nothing can be nothing

own nothing

alas know no thing

a new since world since here

Alaska they write

write unborn

words fat white globs of rain

rain down

head uncovered

hood mostly brown blown down

waking striking storefront 

flames

carnage horror

unable to purchase neither milk nor cookie 

Mother  of Harold! saugh maide

strolling childe in carriage 

alas! deathe    

alas focalized object twisted

somtyme convoluted

focalized gaze tortuous fro cigarettes smoked too early (filterless) 

perspective alle wrong

sheen of water behound store unysene

unsensed uncertyn sith salmon spawning

Creek Street armed salvation among the goosts

of hosbands & quenes hungry 

ladies & germs in my bag

got me some turkey sandwiches

big ones healthy ones take one free if you’re hungry 

got water too if you’re thirsty 

no charge ladies & genitals 

also want you to know I give a dollar

Alas! how deeply painful

is alle payment! anon

to each person I give a sandwich

alas shoulde one eate this

meete deathe this in the state of Alaska

this morning rosy-handy Donna

spreading tentacles round

warmly—that’s

#yolo cat dig that? 

showers rain down today

showers rain mainly the entirety

all these doggone days

all Ketchikan day

these 100% “chance” of showers days

& when the sun shines forth breaking

base contagious clouds to smithereens

shrapnel scintillating on ocean blinds

hot rainbow embers   

stiff skiffs for Xmas too

ravens (big as jets) & seagulls & eagles

rain weaves blankets of soliloquy

rain fingers snap

kissing eyes closed & leaves fat w/ white surrealism

holding K’s holytourismdollars

windows fogged

Ravens & eagles & seagulls

rain still falls (flatly faintly)

staring out of window

whites of fog paws

hardly sense rain

closing closer

cd sniff an end of sea life

whale road anemones

a game of poker w/ Mr Mayor

right next to the snails de-shelled & salted

pines grow right up against the tide

mists of ocean crawl up nostrils

Alaska when days slap again

offered one little life

& for but few days

art kills here save for crafts crafted handily

save those totems

of grandiosity narrating culture becoming

say AK can you believe in a year

one writing abt Foucault like one knew

he sat on one’s lap & blew one kisses        

& Mr. Whitman which way does yr beard point in the arctic?

sick of watercolors

boozed here more ever

days in winter when brushed snow off stair banisters

w/ sleeve

sunset three o’clock

fickle fickle tone

deaf too

skiffs here bruise shins

when boarded sissy-style

DRUM dum dum DRUM

dum dum DRUM DRUM

dum DRUM dum dummmm

as if the day ever cd start earlier

sun-up hotel boats cargoed money

frontier bruised here & here

displaying shoulder & torso

& healed there & there

referencing noggin & stomach

mercy gets meaner

each night

town of stilts 

among ravens eagles & the angles of rain

prompts gathering of wits in guts

lusting for beauty always

finding Alaska inherently inclusive to vagrants

& beauty of all shapes

OK OK OK AK

let’s shake

we’re of one grain

made the first incisions deep

now relax Alaska

rest yr big ol’ head

let’s make . . .

let’s make sleep

flatly faintly (warmly)

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copper plates

9/5/2014

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AT WORDSWORTH CASINO

FT. THOMAS, ARIZONA

at MT. TUNRBULL’S BASE

           

cybernetic organisms ushered us in

                                                            & as for my transport

           

            no idea             to what I gave our ignition card

or where it took it

                                    but I have this ticket so I feel fine

& I trust this assisting machine

                        we tried entering Dove Cottage Auditorium

            locked doors deterred  

                       

                                    & so we saw across a blindingly sunlit patio

                        blinding sun mosquito drones humming                     I see you too

sliding doors to enter Wordsworth Casino proper air-conditioned woosh

                                                                                    next show

            Lenardo Scinerde Morelo y Los Cabrones del Norte

                                                                                   

                                    finally we have some thesis here

            America look at this poker y todo 

                                                            it’s beautiful America sd

my god I sd                                        

                        I love robots

                                    America cd easy make heartburn for yr ass

we deserved applauso en nuestro entrado

  tried to say that we warranted prosthetic

            handclaps from all these fatgutted skinny-ass

            old folk

                                    plugged into their machines behind their ears

                                                slotting it up smoking long unashed electronic cigarettes

little white tubs filled with nickels & tickling sensors resting on their laps

            or between their shriveled legs                         America sd stop singing

 

                        . . . he had been formed against him

                        & our perjurer & forger

                        blew his brains out

                        in some Safford hotel             

                        & our perjurer & forger

                        w/o regard to party

                        in some Safford hotel

                        greeted copper mine cyborg entrance

                        w/o regard to party

                        w/ ovation after ovation

                        greeted copper mine cyborg entrance

                        w/ plaudits w/o precedent

                        in annals of any parliament

            thank you for that

                                                not singing

            deeper into the fire                                          a ruckus

            don’t you call me semi-skilled

                                                overheard one waiting cyborg

its employing elder

                                                sipped iced coffee & wore two

red vests

                                    stairs leading to Wordsworth Casino’s slotpit   

            America gesturing at gamers

                                    spinning wheels         

                                                gaming eyes

                        briefly?

                                                                        briefly lifting

            cherry              /           seven   /           bonus t

            wired to machines

                                    heads & tails

                                                            am employed that’s all

            that’s it          

                                                shooting brownfolks from remote                               

                        drones

                                                dead

& here is working

                        pass me that mayo pedro

                                                mind my cerveza again full 

thanky kindly

                        guest bloodsample permits rights

                                                           

            humanize my dehumanity

                                    a guest & they move freely?

            say hey how ‘bout ye give little more mind on that inflation index bub?

            li’l family grants for us to be makin little quality time with our kin?

            keeping you from havin to foot most of our insurance bill?

us dropping them off at some shrink whence those pubes start sproutin & those pits

            start stankin & certainly that cost-a-living wd be a mighty fine thing too

            now don’t get me wrong there no suh that’s really our numero uno

            America & I cut our losses

                                                speak robotics freely

prosper our corporate personhoods

                                                            gather our horses

                        & our hours

                                    & our chariots

            & prepare for strike

                                    & prepare to march

                                                                                    & hit our song

because we patented a new lyrical function

                                    stubbing toes

                        rehearsing the part into the hallway

                                                            next to the photos of hardware & brands

& facial recognitions

                                                sitting at tables during Thanksgiving ’78

                        copper plates hung ornamented

            that hologram America says is racy

                         

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    Chaley Chastitellez

    Annals of Aztec demigods, Chican@s more Dedalusians in slouches, Quetzalcoatls in jumpsuits.

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