As you walk past the Florian Gate
The world becomes
A word
In ragged busker's occasional
Tune
Or one false note of his
Rheumatic
Gypsy
Richly ringed
Fingers
Or even a 200 years old tune
Straight from his
Latest
Homemade
CD
The world becomes a cat
Curled pretty well into Bracka St.
And a flag waving „heaven”
While moonlight spills death all across
All lovers
Dirty dancing at 3AM
Then poetry readings
At a sausage stand
The Time Keeper wishes us lucky
He managed to stop
All the clocks
By now
Soon all we get to see
Be our reflections
In Planty trees and benches 'round midnight
Smoke signals
Cold cappuccino
And white umbrella
Vita
Very
Dolce
Decrescendo
Serenity's cunning gardens... try to portrait
Her cardinal rule's
Composures
Draw it or write it down with
Notes, spirals, whatevers
Crypts and ovals or badly broken Englishes:
B flat
Suits here
Best
We're in Cracow's hell-pit, dear
With no one to confide
In
But the devil in wild red heels
Dancing
The rain-dog rumba
In St Mary's Church
Religiously drunk
And ecstatic
Parading in drag
'Cross the altar and back
Unstoppable echoes crash
Velvet
Corridors below him
Her
Explore and rewrite
Serenity's cunning
Mute
Breakdowns
Devil's heels click like dew drops
Decrescendos
Immuted
Mon Petit Chou
Oh... so there you are! we were about
To meet some
Where
Else
You must've had them bridges
All wrong
The cabman as drunk as usual
Autochthon shadow zone
Goddamn Gypsy cutthroats
Pickpockets
Putas
No crossroads here:
And your soul stays where it's always
Been
Put to
Drawn into
Put out of
Declared
Mimosa
You leave cab
Ah... so here am I
I was about to buy you some
Dyed black roses, but,
mon petit chou,
I just had to get drunk tonight, you see?
Spend all my change
For second rate gin
Drank it under the
Bagatela theatre's
Gorgeous
Curtain wall
Giantess
So
Bonne nuit now,
You know the fate of all
Rebels
Planty Park
Leave me sleepless at this here star-bench
I'm perfectly comfortable
Like that
I know all the bum-poets of
Planty
They're my
Ineffable
Compadres
Some of them family
Ramblers to all
Sweepers
Winter Street's corners
Birds' Path lowdown palaces
Silver River's
Lethal depths
Putrefied amongst the
Piss
Traces
Passing clown's red sunglasses
Tombola
Prizes
Corroding with the raindrops
Amazingly
Slow
Putrefied
Legislated
Lords of God's own wrath
Poet's justice
Survivor
Shells
Masters of wino
Indiscipline
In Attila’s Wake
Uncle bloody corrida Attila has lost his damn
Accordion
Again
Must've left it at the slums
While playing with ladies
Or giving them boys
What they want
Won at poker
Or lost at
Loaded
Dice with skull-bones
Must've painted the basses
In blood and semen
Run all over the slums
With a razor grin
Shining
Chrome
Dementia incarnated
At 4 A.M.
Cheap dinner time at
24/h
Greek Bar
The fiddler reminded him, damn it
Fucking squeezebox must've cost
A fortune
Way back
In 1906
And uncle's so easily
Forgettable
Deaf
While on cider
And cheap Greek
Whatever
I'll have to go down to the slum
Tomorrow
And see what the hell
Can be
Done
All about it
La-Di-Da Rebirth of the Cool
La-di-da – rebirth of the cool –
Let's declare it – let's face it – let's
Immortalize
It
Souvenir it
Realize it
Cum it
Refrain it
Trash it and can it
Perform it
Reform it
Strike down get over
Come on in it
Begin it and finish
Free free jazz from the jazz
In the free, then free the free
From the free in it
And free the cat inside
The drum
Let's be at
The beat let's beat
At the be at
And tap at
Train daughters of bop
Be bop
Were bop
Are bop
And will be
Bop be at
Beat
When they cum uncut
To the be at
Soothe swarms of
Bodhisattva
Raindrops
Beating
Bopping
Replacing, rebirthing
The bitching brew
Cool
La-di-da-la-da-di
The in out inn
And out in outt
With the da-di-la
Baritone
Rehab
Explosion
Interplanetary Crumble
The interplanetary crumble begins
Bars and bordellos wide
Open
Earth's dinner is ready
Old Market's filled with
Word whore
Volunteers
Alien visitors
Sniffing for fresh
Meat
Sanctuary scenery keepers
Whistlers of pre-war blues
Gunmen editors
And goofballs
Queers and transvestite
Lovers
Longtime opiate admirers
"Calita, I must be mad...
Off the rocket completely, dear
You tell me I'm sane...you loosen
Them chains..."
She says:
"I love it when you whisper
Dirty Spanish
Words.
I love it when you write down
My period. I love reading
Dictionaries with you..."
Sips her Quick Death
Drink
Entertains the cock
"God, I suppose I'm now
Tangled
Completely..."
Calita keeps selling her ass
While I keep selling
Cheap record reviews
Writing poor
Swing tunes
For B-class bar-brawlers
For movies never
Directed and such
Guess it's time for a change
For worse
At my
Best
Or else, Calita, I'm finished
Zen Gauloises
His hands were shaking and so were his eyes
As if dreaming a dreamless dream
The paradies soft
As expected
No matter how hard he tries
Can't write the moon
Down
At all
A mime researcher in the
Strangest spiritual hour-zones
Invisible
Octave author
He wrote in estacades
Bimbos
Churches
And strange pictorials
Found at untranslatable
Ancient
Scriptures
He had the alchemist's
NACHSCHLÜSSEL
He wrote on the backs
Of 11th century zen
Monks
Like we all
Did
Now didn't we?
His hands were shaking and that was
A sign
Of another
Latte
Longing
I lit up his Gauloises
And the zen monks
All laughed
At our
Clapping
Sustained
Debate:
At the very start of all writing
Stands a fortunate monk
Who sneers
And constantly
Chips
Blues Fang
Karma... you ship-less captain, you
Warmer now
Might even find a haven
Down there
Might steal those drunken sailors'
Women
Might even
Take one home
Or win one at bridge
Tie her up
Or even
Marry her later on
You might play Samson's Blues
All night long
All 12 boring bars
May lose your voice
Lose your
Money
Karma... you port scum habiteur
Pigeon frightening lines
Watcher
Your fate might await in the
Morning siren's
Debauchery
Murdered small-town boy's
Shriek
The revenge on
Pasolini
Karma... get on with the
Blues
Fang
The Least of the Best
She was stretched out like leaves pattern
Leaving patterns
Laters
Maybes
Others
Cheap orchestral Beatles' renditions
Some cactus
Gardener's flasher
Wife
B/w photos Mike made once
With his one of a kind
See-through camera
Monster
See-in
Drenched
Assertive
Raptures
It is now time for the pattern
To reveal
Its whole complexity
Death trap
Wish
And leave the leaves alone
For the best we can do
Is the least we can
Do
Caged
Caged you say... that's interesting
Caged by whom by what by
Which by why by where by when???
Caged
Signed and delivered Polish magician:
No longer the somersault
Madam
No longer cheap posters
In pencil
No longer the nights in bars
Wooden broken at the table
Awakenings
Days so sleepy
Almost non-present
Katzenjammer prophecies
Tendency
Always rolls on
Unlike you
No tricks to show
This week
Caged, you say... that's so revealing
A brilliant thought indeed
By whom? for which? for whom?
By why?
So seriously
Concealed
You might need a shave, magician
Take a bath, buy beer, visit Gina
Eat breakfast or smoke
Your last
Cigar
Then you'll surely forget about the
Cage
You speak of
Soma Friday
Aye... all we ever got was everything
Perceived as
Nothing
Percepted as stones on the road
And knife-dance
Inertia
Admired as our higher
Presence
Praised as Siva
And drunk as soma
Each Friday
Lowdown security
Systems
Blinking red lights
Smoke and sirens and mirrors
Ripped off and dotted theatre
Down at the drained bottle's
Bottom
Broken into
Dumb observers'
Copyrighted
Eyeballs
They collect the play
In mirrors
And razor's reflections
Then they sometimes comment
Or not
Was it worth it
And all we ever did was
Ride in the tightrope passenger's sit
Hoping never to slip... and aye
We slipped
At our very own
Wish
Star-Storm Jamboree
The mind lives mostly at it wishes to live
Leaves no spare room
Demands no
Reward
Cries out for no protection
Expects no divine
Intervention
Loves no one
And hates not a single thing
It slides
It flows
Observes just to gather
Sleeps beyond all sleeper's will
Still in the womb and never conceived
Breathes Night's immortal
Pumping
Jewels
Hears the star-storm
Jamboree
Vibes of the sucking space thrust
We omit
And deny
And forget to deliver
Obedient to the skies
Overhead only
What are they but cloud projections
Moonlit sculptures
Thrown onto sheets
Of fire
Carved in rain and barely visible
Smoke-rays
What are they
But our eyes
Looked upon
From the other
Side
And the other side's not there
And then this here's side
not even here
So hold on to your mind
That's the traitor
You know
Best
Curtain Cut
Jump cut curtain run
Cut
Sliced to pieces artifact
Run and jump the cut run
Jump
Night cut night jump
Into daylight
Curtain
Cut jump run
The artifact
Cut the spice up spice cut
Barrel
Run
The night gun cuts the curtain
Runs and jump cuts jumps
While the daylight
Waits for none
Cuts runs the curtain down
Jump
Frenzy
No Title
Gina's like Swiss cheese Mediterranean Sea
I'm goddamn subterranean rat river
Cracow’s the goddamn delta
We all
One day
Meet
Here
Like a graveyard, only better
Like a movie
Only live
Here boxers and sandals confront golden dresses
White lace tops
And brocade ties
Blonde on blonde
Mind on mind
Object
On
Object
I consume the goddamn cheese
And then I get
Exterminated
Brocade ties and golden dresses
Remain
White lace tops
Now stained with rat-blood
Rat-shit
Rat-over
Swarmed with
Accidental
Johnnie Walkers
Swim in this delta's
Black muddy
Waters
Where river meets sea
All's so
Naturally
Perfect
At instant
Delta Come-Again
There's just one rhythm for trains
Blues rhythm
Slim Harpo excess
Late night cafe at Planty
„Thank you Jesus” written with blood
On the
Black
Wall
„Excuse me, brother” spelled out in
Chimneys
Freedoms
Rendez vous
Where there are no rails to your
Sheltered well
Heartland
Inhaling bop
Exhaling
Life
Or just the other way round
Or just the other round way
Or just the round other way
From passion to passion
The stations exchange
For a bunch of
Rose-garden
Ladies
Exhaling bop
Inhaling
Life
Marilyn, Skulls and Bones
Sleep now under the Old Market candles
Imagine that you are the same
As Marianne
As the leashes of her perfume and guilt
Undercover
Sleep
Undercover
Spilt over
Now the pillow becomes the Master's
Skylight
Soaked in Caribbean drums
And the jingling armor of scentless
Death
And she swallows her spit so much faster
Swallows the drink like
Single drops of
Mercury
Salvation
Like the emperor – she's there
And she wants to go to the zoo
To see the monkey's
Toy
Violin
And watch the teeth form
Pretty rows
Of wisdom
Deep
Undercover
Breathe over
And so talks the moon:
Marilyn, skulls and bones
She’s in love with her reflection
Hands scratching at the ceiling
Eyes offer up protection
For Celine
I guess we've been lovers
Some-chance earlier
And we've visited
The very same bookstores
Made love
To the very same ladies
The femme-fatales
The losers
Guess we've been hiding
In same words
Reading / commenting
Same
Books
Guess we've been doomed by the very same hand
That opened our eyes
On creation's
Blood
Day
And the Seine gleams
And the moonlight blazes on
Revealing another scene
Another week
At the world's
Golden
Centre
Here – there are no rules
Here – there are no wrong
Predictions
Here everything's guided
By the prophet's
Wrinkled
Bone
And I guess we're still in this bookstore
Where we first came upon
Joyce
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