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New Poem

By Jon Rappoport | | OutsideTheRealityMachine

Image "Tirol" by Franz Marc [PD]

August 17, 2015

Note: When a poet turns things upside down and inside out, the word “crazy” is usually applied to him. It’s not a bad word in that context, but suppose he’s moving the furniture around and making things better. What an idea.

spring afternoon in New York
music, café
plates of hot steaming food coming out of the dark

hats keep coming
blue hats, old hats, widebrim hats, caps of sailors in their roominghouses
hats of drudgery made out of wool
crowns shaped like ladles and silk top hats soaked with adrenaline
it’s raining kidneys in central park and mysterious waiters in tuxedos are walking to my table delivering poems in triangular Atlantean script

In the muscular streets of the new city the citizens are faded pictures

I’m waiting for God to sign his document of resignation and mean it this time

This is a city made sure by propagandists
every investigation dead-ended in rotting flowers

The wind is on the land
the rain is on the land
breaking the invisible door
and taking us into an underground

…more than angels in closets
sand in the pistol of an oyster

wet leafs on the ferry deck
she is promising me her life
round and round with wooden horses
we keep making the trip back and forth
grinding away all promises until we’re all that’s left
the two of us naked and alone on the bright ship passing under a Bridge

Christ was a poem, Buddha was a poem, there were ventricle poems drifting out of blood poems made out of anthracite
salami sandwich poems

Once knew an old carni who made the universe disappear for five minutes
this happens you just need to be alert to it
magicians are walking around dressed like Brooklyn bagmen

stave off the wind, keep your face turned sideways


(New Poem  reprinted here with permission of the of the author.)