Saturday, August 29, 2009

Two Reflections

Mexican beaches

whiter than white

sprawled like a fat Cubano chick

with her eyes on my wallet and her heart ready for anything

I told Negroponte it was a good idea

we'd loot the bitch and turn her belly up for

The Pioneers

big handshakes all around

blood in and blood out

it seems to be going around

looks like everyone you can push around

has to take your dick




it don't matter

they're going down

Lansky had the right idea

but it was a smaller scene

hot latin asses

cold white minds

endless stretching oasis

of callipygian fantasy



truck farm the world

I'll plow your north forty with every beggar boy and girl;

lazier that Gunga Din

one gigantic reservation of people that can't come in

some kind of issue to occupy the common mind

those fuckers want our freedom

which would mean they think we



I love it on the rooftops

pissing and throwing shit

look at the savages scramble for it

It reminds me of something

from a long time ago


(worries the corner of his mouth)


I don't know

must have been a long time ago

borders arbitrary and changing like a sidewinder tracks

through the Arizona desert

wind takes care of that

wind rain

come and come again

sooner or later

.... why... I....



cold breeze at the nape of the neck

Patrick Willis narrates:

The road to glory
the road to heaven's gate begins
here on the dusty streets of this temporary
How few they are who
set forth in this
darkness and are not distracted in
their certitude of light

this miracle of faith this
breaking dawn within that will not
be diminished or
extinguished by
the false light of this world

how grateful am I
for the magnitude of
you across the centuries of time
your story cuts into my central core and
reminds me of the way you walked and the
land into which you came and the steadfast watch
you give at the door where you in timeless awaiting
for my tardy footsteps to arrive

however inconsistent I
may be
however held for a lifetime in the
thrall of false adventure and
the silly passions of whatever
impersonating flower in momentary bloom
I will come out of this realm and pass
through the wheel of fire
out of the burning worlds and
horned masters of my frail and wounded heart-
the bas relief of hard resisting mask
overlay upon overlay upon the eternal
blinding light that shall as an
orphan come home at last

Patrick Willis narrates: