COUNTER CULTURE


You can’t. No you can’t.
And you can’t take it
with you to mountain
top nor desert
shore (tunnel
hull, holly
hill).

But you can meet me
on a crown top,
and you can
roof me up
a thumb.
To Gold
Country
& back
again.

Shake that shag!

This is the tale
of Jean-Louis.
This is the
saga of
Debris.

And you? You
don’t know
Jack!

Atop and Underwood,
Satori in Paris and
all rich matter
in between.

You ain’t. No you ain’t.
And you ain’t with it
till you from vision
air to airy
head (capi
caput pot
est).

Then you can lift me
from the green crop,
and you will
stew me up
anumb.
In Cop’s
per Mine
& out
again.

Wag that tail!

That is the legend
of Duluoz.
That is the
tale of
Low Al.

Why you? You
didn’t talk
Sax!

Mehta done and
methadone.

Mexican stroll, dog/cat
like ‘call’. Those scenes
he saw were seen…

Then framed.

M.J.C.A. 26-09-2006