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in a rainbow

      When he discovered

      the perfect accommodation

      of Universal Mind

      in its active aspect

      You’ll have a Period of Golden Age

      Restitution of Loss

      I’ve had all I can Eat

      Revisiting Russet towns

      Of long ago

      On carpets of bloody sawdust

       19th Chorus

      Christ had a dove on his shoulder

      – My brother Gerard

      Had 2 Doves

      And 2 Lambs

      Pulling his Milky Chariot.

      Immersed in fragrant old

      spittoon water

      He was Baptized by Iron

      Priest Saint Jacques

      De Fournier in Lowell

      Massachusetts

      In the Gray Rain Year,

      1919

      When Chaplin had Spats

      and Dempsey

      Drank no whisky by the track.

      My mother saw him in heaven

      Riding away, prophesying

      Everything will be alright

      Which I have learned now

      By Trial & Conviction

      In the Court of Awful Glots

       20th Chorus

      The Art of Kindness A Limping Sonnet

      How the art of kindness doth excite,

      The ressure and the intervening tear,

      What horizons have they fled,

      What old time’s blearest dream!

      But atta pressure of the Two Team,

      Finding nothing to surfeit the bloated corpse,

      Rabbed the Whole She bo be bang

      And rounded them a Team.

      Beam! Bleam! So no one cared.

      Except the High Financier.

      Ah, but wine was never Made

      That sorely tongues gave grace & aid.

      Because I cant write a sonnet

      Does that make me Shakespeare?

      There’s a sonnet of the lotus

      A rubicund rose

      Death in a rose

      Is prouder than satin

      Emerald Isles

      Blest

      In the Archipelagoan

      Shore –

      Ferry’s arrived.

       21st Chorus

      Not very musical, the Western ear

      – No lyres in the pines

      compare with the palms

      Western Sorcery is Sad Science –

      Mechanics go mad

      In Nirvanas of hair

      and black oil

      and rags of dust

      and lint of flint

      Hard iron fools raging in the gloom

      But here’s East, Cambodian

      Saloons of Air

      And Clouds Blest.

      Blakean Angel Town.

      Grove of Beardy Trees

      & Bearded Emptily –

      Expressing Patriarchal

      Authority

      To us listeners

      Of the Holy See

      Saw,

      said,

      Saved

      Saved my Bhikkucitas

       22nd Chorus

      Saved my bhikkucitos

      for the holy hair

      that was found wanting

      in merde air –

      Ninety devils jokin with me

      And I’m running on the catwalk

      At Margaritee

      Jumping from car to car

      In a 60 mile freight

      Runnin up the pass maw

      Tunnel Gore waited Ore

      The fantastic steelsmoke

      In choke mad tunnels

      of Timbercountry Calif.

      where if I’d-a fell,

      I’d-a fell on peb pebbles

      of sore iron grit,

      of hard put to it

      Importunate fool that I was,

      I raved to fight Saviors

      Instead of listening in

      To the Light – still a fool

       23rd Chorus

      CHORUS NO. 1 of

      Blues in Bill’s Pad

      CHORUS NO. 23 of

      San Francisco Blues

      FOURTEEN CHORUSES

      of Blue City Blues

      Fifteen O Choruses

      of Genu wine blues

      Sing you a blues song

      sing you a tune

      Sing you eight bars

      of Strike Up the Band

      Eight of Indiana, eight

      of Israel,

      Eight of Chubby’s Chubby,

      eight of old Wardell

      Yes baby, Count Blue

      Basie’s fat old Chock

      Wallopin Fat Rushing

      Was a wow old saloon man

       24th Chorus

      All great statements ever made

      abide in death

      All the magnificent & witty

      rewards of French Lettrism

      Abide in death

      All the Roman Sculptor

      of Heroes, all Picassos

      and Micassos and

      Macayos

      and

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