the universe is rife with noons

[saw]

Kafka's Metamorphosis singes the eyes
a young man refuses to cut his hair
another man much younger comes along
refuses to get in the check-out line
with ten items or less, they gleaned
we needn't be just one thing
needn't always toe the lines, I began
to see cocoons everywhere
hanging in the sky
breeding grounds for changes
in the weather, for the things
I once was, dull turned into butterflies
stirred by the imagination electrified,
the shocks of the new frontiers
the star treks right before my eyes
the soundtracks to Hair, Jesus Christ
Superstar, I can still hear it all, see
the printed pages of revolution, there
are always jumping jukeboxes, new arts
to embrace, to hear with all the senses
we have at our disposal instead of only one,
even when no one is talking out loud
we can hear it,..... see it, feel it
from beat to beatnik, from punk
to punk rock, the outlaws
will make their marks in the center
of town, a gunslinger has an itchy finger
the universe is rife with noons

[the mingo]

FUCK YEAH, MONGOLIA!

[judih]

fantastic title, cool piece!

[saw]

mingo, judith...thank you...always good to hear what's on your minds

[leafsailors ghost]

Put the cast iron stove door under you shirt and stand there grinning, dig the poem

[mnaz]

Rockin'. I keep thinking of McKenna's "novelty" stuff. Complexity building on complexity, time compressing, everything building toward the End . . . of what? The transcendent point at the end of history, the transformation out of dark centuries. Already underway. The last major spasm/burst of materialism will fade too ...

Anyway, like I said, jammin' . . . No, wait, I said rockin' ... Great stuff.