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A Brickbat for Herman Brood
or P78 Meets Wild Romance in Paradiso

The Sengalese soldiers are pissing
on Bismarck's statue on the Rhine

I'm talking on the telephone w/ Charlemagne
                   in Alamut East,
Mr. Gysin, it was one of them black holes
what fell into Mr. Burroughs' green hat
& Mr. Norse got the picture of course
Death's got his arms open, man,
a pyramid of will based on illusion
rises to touch the razorblade sky
Fantastic how we all get by
The Japanese poet laughs real loud,
declares himself a museum
It could only happen in Amsterdam
where the Flying Dutchman steers
w/ finches' eyes & speaks w/simultaneous tongues
to proclaim the data of love & fear
Take what you want, baby,
there's a long way to go
Poetry is communication & her harp    
is in her hands
It could only happen in Amsterdam
Apocalypse bubbles in the ear
We are not serving shadows,
punky junkies flailing the air -
Let the bread stay in the breadbox,
Herman, I write your name down here
We are not inclined to go back,
our long hair summons the air
The song we sing clings to the streets
as we, circling, circle the square
Fuck you, Jack,
I'm on Houdini's elevator now
It's you who's staying down there
Watch Shusaku eat his partner's brain
as we shout OWLFEATHERS! PLUTONIUM!
            THE WAY IN IS THE WAY OUT!
Black, Black, Black brings light to doubt.
Patti Smith queens your pawn -
Anarchy prevails - It is poetry which
breaks 
      the bars of jails!

                            Full Moon Eclipse

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