Dead Bodies

canto dos

while overhead is the perfect blue

emptiness of the sky 

with its imaginary balloons 

of false sight

flying around in it 

like Tathagata Flying Saucers

these poor ignorant things 

mill o sidewalks

looking at pitifull pictures

of what they think

is reality 

and one

a Negro with curls

even as a camera 

to photograph 

the pictures

and jelly roll man 

pops his Billy Bell

good humor for sale-

W Somerset Maugham 

is on my bed

an ignorant storyteller

millionaire queer

but Ezra Pound

he crazy -

as the perfect sky begenninglessly pure

thinglessly perect

waits already

they pass in multipilicity 

parade among images 

images images looking  

looking-

and everybody's turning around 

& pointing -

nobody looks up

and in

nor listens to Samantabhadra's

unceasing compassion

no sound still

S s s s t t 

Seethe

of sea blue moon

holy x-jack

miracle

night-

instead yank & yucker

for pits & pops

look for crashes

pictures

squares

explosions

birth

death

legs

i know, sweet hero,

enlightenment has come

rest in still

in the sun think

think not

think no more lines-

straw hat, hands a back,

classed

he exam in atein distinct

rome prints-

trees prurp

and saw

the chessplayers wont end

still they sit

millions of hats 

 in underwater foliage

over marble games

the greeks of chess

plot the pop

of mate

king queen

-i know their game,

their elephant with the pillar

with the pearl in it,

their gory bishops

and vital pawns-

their devout frontline

sacrificial pawn shops

their stately king

who is so tall 

their virgin queens

pree ing to knave

the night knot

-their bhagavad gitas

of ignorance,

krishna's advice,

comma,

the game begins-

but hidden Buddha

nowhere to be seen

but everywhere

in air atoms

in balloon atoms

in imaginary sight atoms

in people atoms

in people atoms

again

in image atoms

in me  & you atoms 

in atom bone atoms

like the sky

already waits

for us eyes to open to

-pawn fell

horse reared

mate kiked vattle

and Boom! Cop

shot Bates-

cru put Two-

out- I Cried-

pound pomed-

Jean-Louis

go home, Man

i mean-

as solid as anything 

is this reality of images

in the imageless essence, 

neither of em 11 quit

-so tho i am wise

i have to wait like

anyotherfool

-kerouac 

::::::::::::::we are riding today at 730:: i will be taking photos: they'll be up tonight, tomorrow, or the next day::::::::::::::