Graffiti I

                                G=R= A

=F=I=T=I

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                                       GRAFFITOS 

                                                

he had a very strong mother

who took him out of his dream

and he shuddered again

because once it was not as it is now,

for we must be something.

but you, you yearn-fear for the

the black absolution,

that envelope of veins

that geners like a river

a “hoo” echo out of a bone ghost,

only if only the stones.

the hard mother might

weaken to a dwarfic or a deaf,

if only the stones would rage in an acorn.

I must awake now

and torch the night:

the walls hunger for graffitos

that’s greater than Twombly.

let’s go out, let’s riot, let’s smash somethin’

because of the father mother, setting fire.

what and where again is me how howled

some increep, yet there are flashes

you know me, and once i told. She bitch

flung me into the rich arms of those fires

who kinded my death terror.

mother mother of all would not allow

those boy bullies to hack me, and so I winked, and

later my running up caught me -

burning ecstatic on the anvilled evil -

who had often breathed and knew my own knowing,

as a cat knows it is sleeping. these blood

tellings moan like Five Thousand Wind,

and he is complete of his replete, so he is,

setting forth to Flat Mountain. he is no terror

but begins a sculpture and maketh colour of

the return, SKAZ i am seize me, king

of myself on painting walls and white flats,

like my cave before me it’s right to rebel

kill the cops and smash the eye dream,

strong mother, gun; where are we now?

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the black absolution,

that envelope of veins

that geners like a river

a “hoo” echo out of a bone ghost,

Being is Seeing.

Things.

Let’s look into things.

the microscope

whose appellation

calls its calling

“When I look into

 the dead sheep’s eye

 it seems to me

 its not dead.

How could it be dead?

“The people in towns

 don’t look at the stars,

 that’s what I do.”

We interspeak.

"Some times I believe there is a world,

but sometimes I think: no! no!  this cannot be!”

some inflating domains

create internal random

fluctuations that enable

sub regions to inflate,

and so on, ad infinitum

“And when I look at pictures

 they look back at me,

 and I cant escape.”

“But I want to be something

What do you know?

What is this image

Of the grey cold stone,

Cold to my clasp -

And the rearing,

Green and yellow of the tree

As great and warm

As all its bursts of flowers?

Who is that man of gleaming grin

Who knows the white of burning bone?

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