Dumb Playboy

 

Stand geo-politically aside, o virgins of the city.
Stay awhile close to mom’s new model air condition-
            er jus’ eschew pollution, I’ll
            take care o’ the dragon
Orange dragon, rounded he is and yes therefore
            Real; and I am not, and the
            world is all, and I have to
            be. Slash his eyes across and
            letters drop
Letters are real. Letters pour and letters are, uh,
            image (he-ey, that word again)
            Oh Suns, o ufo’s, won’t y’
            drop me one new-product
Sweetener for a serious breather ain’t I a real one
            also with a fear for mirrors,
            oh
Mirrors reflect lightning, that is real had stayed
            with us
Since prehistory (this is a concept) (is this a
            concept?)—

It is an old image not a warped bulldozer but the
            same, the same—not evolu-
            tionary, but the same—except
            when you evolve it into new, fantastic
            usage, into new comic products, though
            even those do not help. What I’m
            saying is it’s an old image but
            it can
Burn a poet A poet is only negative by God!
            lightning is + -,
Yeah, and so are electric cooperatives.

Image (ooh!), o poet, "bring me more!" o imagina-
            tions
Make me a succesful poet, bring me more Dreams
            more creations more nights of
            unalka-seltzered restlessness
            if only
I may Someday become that Newsweek cover and Time
            International, if only
O, Image thou art The Words to me yet do you remain
            sovereign in this Construc-
            tion? Uh-oh,

            What is a construction, o artists of the heart
                        feelings? o internationalists?
                        o poet also? o Poet also!

                Stand geo-politically aside, let me take care o’
                            this, you ain’t seen nobody
                            more original—

                    Oh I will marry you all, all of you!
                                Break the hymen of illusions,
                                throw new seed on cold passion.

 

 

Copyright © 1999, 2004 Vicente-Ignacio Soria de Veyra. All rights reserved. Readers are welcome to view, save, file and print out single copies of this webpage for their personal use. No reproduction, display, performance, multiple copy, transmission, or distribution of the work herein, or any excerpt, adaptation, abridgment or translation of same, may be made without written permission from the author. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this work will be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

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