In my featherless, sagging, saffron wings,
I dance
My Phoenician, waterlogged, orchestrated and forty foot wings
Wave in the air
I am drunk laying against the striped table
Pushing these banners into the airless beach
Waving these flags as I murmur the recipes of prayers to the vendors
And the pharisees in bikinis pumping iron against the sun
The recipes of semitic vendors, egyptian vendors
Shaking their backs against the sun
Laughing with the sounds of sheets of metal
Splashing the naked pharisees
With wild bikinis and the soft fragrance
Of dreams
And morning
I walk on the beach looking for a place to sleep
My arms are hidden beneath my sailing skin
I am broke and fucked up and I fall in the sand
And sleeping in the warm cradle of a billion rocks
I dreamed of cher
She came to us in babylon
And she was rattling fluently
Her true language
And she was dressed in high syrian rags
Her face had white powder on it and there were
Little brown moons beneath her eyes
And I saw into her
An arabic women parading around naked
Powerful, irreverent but still after all
Doing it the old egyptian way
With sparkling clothes and force
Now I awake in the afternoon
The arcade is filled with children
Families are walking by staring at me
Pre-pubescent faces are coming a little too close
I don't even remember if I have on any underwear
I get up and walk away
I never even knew this stuff was here
The twirling music, the games, the money
This commune living sucks
These black panthers suck
These harmonica players
Should all go back to the north
Canada, new jersey, where ever they do that
Blowing
[II]
I abandon the old way when I first got to San Diego.
I fucked anybody I wanted to.
I was, however, gang raped by a blues band in an old school bus.
That was pretty
Horrible.
There were only three of them.
I can't remember if I g
