sugar ray robinson caruso
sugar ray robinson caruso
go to the lonely valley in your woven palm fedora!
go and sing the tenor part (of Fedora)
while you shadowbox
shadow box the Mantuan Muse of Madness
That Virgilian Anxiousness of tending goats near the ocean
whose thrum and hush
crash and vumm
Bug Jargal a buggy boxer’s cortex suite
whose tools lie oxydizzying in the saline immensity
corrupted
useless as a woman
in the bed of a proper pirate
O that you might sing to those cannibals
a song so sweet and empty
so furtive with destiny
that the flame of its cooing breath
might open a window into a world without long-pig
a world in which utterance
representing more than animal mouth noise
might come to mean
a star-light born from within
and kindling a universal brotherhood of wonder
a feeling which would not fade
like the footlights of the theatre
but grow
with each passing day
until in its gnarled unceasing brilliance
it might open itself into a Weird Aeon
where knowing flowed
and burst through the cataracts between us
where finally in that amazing jungle world of hope
birds of paradise
all
would throb
to the glorious izbokbinelda of pure energy
where finally I might be buried
in a white chocolate Yeti-rolls
whose stylized curls mimic’d the feathered
moustaches of Quetzalcoatl in a jade tophat
where finally
sugar ray robinson caruso
might put down for the count
the blackness of the human heart
down onto the canvas
where it belongs
a painting of words
in a fugue-ish ring
whose circle is squared by language’s
shipe-shafting mastike
its original error
whose is as Oz
makes an emerald
grown like a gobsmacked
schnoz;
Pow!
w/ hummingbirds for blood..
