The Dream Songs

Life, friends, is boring. We must not say so. After all, the sky flashes, the great sea yearns, we ourselves flash and yearn

These Songs are not meant to be understood, you understand. They are only meant to terrify & comfort.

I conclude now I have no inner resources, because I am heavy bored. Peoples bore me, literature bores me, especially great literature,

Them lady poets must not marry, pal . . . It is a true error to marry with poets / or to be by them.

Two daiquiris withdrew into a corner of a gorgeous room and one told the other a lie.

Listen, for poets are feigned to lie, and I For you a liar am a thousand times . . . .

Soon part of me will explore the deep and dark Floor of the harbour . . I am everywhere, I suffer and move, my mind and my heart move With all that move me, under the water

The splendour & the lose grew all the same, Sire.

Springwater grow so thick it gonna clot and the pleasing ladies cease. I figure, yup, you is bad powers.

That baby has got to learn things including remaining erect & on deck & all, her study of herself must include no wings. She's sturdy, beautiful, & she will do, unless the universal homage turns her head as it might well do mine, hypnotized by the Little Baby...

Hunger was constitutional with him, women, cigarettes, liquor, need need need until he went to pieces. The pieces sat up & wrote. They did not heed their piecedom but kept very quietly on among the chaos.

The only happy people in the world are those who do not have to write long poems

Yeats knew nothing about life: it was all symbols & Wordsworthian egotism: Yeats on Cemetery Ridge would not have been scared, like you & me, he would have been, before the bullet that was his, studying the movements of the birds, said disappointed & amazed Henry.

All souls converge upon a hopeless mote tonight, as though the throngs of souls in hopeless pain rise up to say they cannot care, to say they abide whatever is to come. My air is flung with souls which will not stop and among them hangs a soul that has not died and refuses to come home.

I ask for a decree dooming my bitter enemies to laughter advanced against them.

It's wonderful the way cats bound about, it's wonderful how men are not found out so far. It's miserable how many miserable are over the spread world at this tick of time. These mysteries that I'm rehearsing in the dark did brighter minds much bother through them ages, whom who finds guilty for failure? Up all we rose with the dawn, springy for pride, trying all morning. Dazzled, I subside at noon, noon be my gaoler and afternoon the deepening of the task poor Henry set himself long since to ask: Why? Who? When? --I don't know, Mr Bones. You asks too much of such as you & me & we & such fast cats, worse men.

During those years he met his seminars, went & lectured & read, talked with human beings, paid insurance & taxes; but his mind was not on it. his mind was elsewheres in an area where the soul not talks but sings & where foes are attacked with axes.

And there is another thing he has in mind like a grave Sienese face a thousand years would fail to blur the still profiled reproach of. Ghastly, with open eyes, he attends, blind. All the bells say: too late. This is not for tears; thinking.

General Fatigue stalked in, & a Major-General, Captain Fatigue, and at the base of all pale Corporal Fatigue, and curious microbes came, came viruses: and the Court conferred on Henry, and conferred on Henry the rare Order of Weak.

Foes I sniff, when I have less to shout or murmur. Pals alone enormous sounds downward & up bring real. Loss, deaths, terror. Over & out, beloved: thanks for cabbage on my wounds: I'll feed you how I feel:-- of avocado moist with lemon, yea formaldehyde & rotting sardines O in our appointed time I would I could a touch more fully say my countless mind. The senses are below, which in this air sublime do I repudiate. But foes I sniff! My nose in all directions! I be so brave I creep into an Arctic cave for the rectal temperature of the biggest bear, hibernating -- in my left hand sugar. I totter to the lip of the cliff.

Nothin very bad happen to me lately. How you explain that? --I explain that, Mr Bones, terms o' your bafflin odd sobriety. Sober as man can get, no girls, no telephones, what could happen bad to Mr Bones? --If life is a handkerchief sandwich, in a modesty of death I join my father who dared so long agone leave me. A bullet on a concrete stoop close by a smothering southern sea spreadeagled on an island, by my knee. --You is from hunger, Mr Bones, I offers you this handkerchief, now set your left foot by my right foot, shoulder to shoulder, all that jazz, arm in arm, by the beautiful sea, hum a little, Mr Bones. --I saw nobody coming, so I went instead.

leave wizard Henry: at his lectern where he's working on his phantasies: Disperse! and everything goes worse so the world fills with her knees, harmful & fair: a medium where 'Fuck you' comes as no curse but come as a sigh or a prayer.