The Days Run Away Like Wild Horses Over the Hills Read Online Free Page B

used to stand down by the rail
    and say as they paraded past:
    “Hi, Willie! How’s your mother today?”
    or, “Eddie, you oughta get one made of wood,
    the way you’re riding lately.”
     
 
    Joe I saw on that last night and he threw his
    glass into the mirror and the bartender
    mad as hell chased him with a baseball bat
    swinging at his balls and everything else,
    driving him out into the street and into the path
    of a bull with one horn that didn’t sound,
    a new Cad a lot tougher than Joe and a lot more
    valuable, and that’s the way the scales balance:
    broken mirror, broken Joe.
     
 
    and when I went in the next night the mirror was
    still broken and Helen, fat Helen, was shaking her beer,
    and I bought her a shot and I said, “Baby, I’ve got
    something to show you, something like you’ve never
    seen before.”
     
 
    and she smiled, but it wasn’t what she was thinking.
     

the way it will happen inside a can of peaches
     
     
    to die with your boots on
    while writing poetry
    is not as glorious
    as riding a horse
    down Broadway
    with a stick of dynamite
    in your teeth,
    but neither is
    adding the sum total
    of all the planets
    named or visible
    to man,
    and the horse was a gray,
    the man’s name was
    Sanchez or Kandinsky,
    it was 79 degrees
    and the children kept
    yelling,
    hog hog
    we are tired
    blow us to hell.
     

scene in a tent outside the cotton fields of Bakersfield:
     
     
    we fought for 17 days inside that tent
    thrusting and counter-thrusting
    but finally she got away
    and I walked outside
    and spit
    in the dirty sand.
     
 
    Abdullah, I said, why don’t you
    wash your shorts? you’ve been
    wearing the same
    shorts
    for 17 years.
     
 
    Effendi, he said, it’s the sun,
    the sun cleans everything, what
    went with the girl?
     
 
    I don’t know if I couldn’t
    please her
    or if I couldn’t
    catch her. she was
    pretty young.
     
 
    what did she cost, Effendi?
     
 
    17 camel.
     
 
    he whistled through his broken
    teeth. aren’t you going
    to catch her?
    howinthehell how? can I get
    my camels back?
     
 
    you are an American, he said.
     
 
    I walked into the tent
    fell upon the ground
    and held my head
    within
    my hands.
     
 
    suddenly she burst within
    the tent
    laughing madly,
    Americano,
    Americano!
     
 
    please
    go away
    I said quietly.
     
 
    men are, she said sitting down and rolling down
    her stockings, some parts titty and some parts
    tiger. you don’t mind
    if I roll down
    my stockings?
     
 
    I don’t mind, I said,
    if you roll down the top
    of your dress. whores are
    always rolling down
    their hose. please
    go away. I read where
    the cruiser crew passed the helmet
    for the red cross; I think I’ll
    have them pass it
    to brace your flabby
    butt.
     
 
    have ’em pass the helmet twice, dad,
    she said, howcum you don’t love me
    no more?
     
 
    I been thinking, I said,
    how can Love have a urinary tract
    and distended bowels?
    pack up, daughter, and flow,
    maneuver out of the mansions
    of my sight!
     
 
    you forget, daddy-o, we’re in
    my tent!
     
 
    oh, christ, I said, the trivialities
    of private ownership! where’s my
    hat?
     
 
    you were wearing a towel, dad, but
    kiss me, daddy, hold me in your arms!
     
 
    I walked over and mauled her breasts.
     
 
    I drink too much beer, she said,
    I can’t help it if I
    piss.
     
 
    we fucked for 17 days.
     

night animal
     
     
    I have never seen such an animal
    except perhaps once,
    but that is another story—
    there it stood,
    no lion
    yet no dog
    no deer yet deer
    frozen nose
    and eye, all eye gathering all the
    moonlight that hung in trees;
    and everywhere the people slept;
    I saw bombers over Brazil,
    cathedrals choked in silk,
    the gray dice of Vegas,
    a Van Gogh over the kitchen sink.
     
 
    home, I poured a drink
    took off my gloves you god damned thing
    why could you have not been a woman
    with all your beauty,
    with all your beauty
    I have not found her yet.
     

on the train to Del