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I am ready to come back to you. I've lived my life a million times
over in a few hours, seen everything, known too much, & now I'm burnt
out, want only love & peaceful madness of America seen & shared with
your eyes.
Last night I saw my whole life illumined over & over.
Each time one image/hallucination set it off. Nuance of a line on the
gold/black statue tells all childhood sorrows, a tracer on the shell
curving through past of dream & real life
too much for anyone, I will burn up, pray for God or codeine pills (I
left them behind in Oakland) to stop them, the endless
picture/ideograms that spell all knowledge, unlock forgotten
nightmares, diabolic comic strip of old illusions running on the wrong
reel too fast.
Don't take It unless you want to know everything simultaneously, hell
& heaven, terror & ecstasy -
to be Faust too & endure the humility of weeping repentence for what
your life or the distorted images that say this is your life & you
believe it helplessly,
perfect knowledge - its terror - wild hallucinations, but
hallucinations that won't stop, but devour time & leave you hung up
for eternity;
to take yr imagination out on the straightaway & see what it'll do
but some other foot steps on the gas:
IMAGES: I wanted to see them all : dig my own mind-movie -
hungry-eyed poets of the universe live it all so you can die in an
armchair in Oakland,
loose wires burnt out & still sputtering -
clenched jaws, mouth aches today from it. Teeth grated & startled me
from Dali comic movies of Mickey Mouse war, troops, guns, explosions,
loves in toppling picture puns -
unclench, relax the mouth, dig it, get in there, don't back off, it's
what you always wanted, all the perfect gestures, classic dada poses
of the diabolic genius, angel-monster showman, the stage, its depth -
curtains drawn back reveal the scene, but its background unfolds:
another universe of actors - they play out in the skull-theater, more
rooms, each more painful than the last, one life lived over & over
each time triggered by an image whose colors/lines stretch tentacles
of remembered sensations into the past, a million deja vues ,
no one can stand this I say, this is the entire scene, no THIS is,
each image perfect & bottomless, the pain of each registering -
O sleep, blankmind, a drink, imagine blankwall but it breaks open into
new shapes more revealing than the last...
is this what you want?
Sure, I dig pretty pot dreams, geometric puns, abstract poem-memories
gentle & easy they unfold, body warm, high, a new chevrolet purring
easily, not
madmind rocket acceleration at speeds of 4 universe-lives per second,
pain of too many mental G's the take off continues, never levelling
out...
apocalypse is a barrage of milleniums / continual explosions of death
/ birth death / birth, lives
illuminated in the flame.
When I tell you to try it it is afterwards in a room with solid
furniture, remember that.
4 packages (160 seeds) Ipomoea Tricolor (Clark's early blue morning glory) crushed and in gelatine capsules swallowed; wait 4 or 5 hours then smoke some pot, turn out lights, lie alone in dark room & start imagining anything, start with any image & let it send out another. Don't drink or take any depressants. Luck.
