The Geranium Hotel Poems

Dear Donald Friend Where are you when your country needs you? The angels are bordering the neurotic legends and all of the rats are sinking through the water like hands into pockets We are the information givers The velvet men who feel With purposes not yet forgiven- for which we are alone in houses watching fires spill onto hearths We wonder why should we be forgiven? Why should the destruction of our lives be reason for art? Oh, Donald Friend, we are the honest ones- men who who don't know the real meaning of existence and probably never shall, yet we go on searching until right becomes left and life leaves us alone Donald Friend as I write I am sitting in the National Library of Australia I know what their drawers contain I know what treasure lies up those elevator shafts I burnt down the Art Gallery for you on your birthday It was a day that no birds flew and no words were written. The taxis were all still and I was half awake I burnt it down for you as they h...

You just drink to get drunk to dance And you just dance to have a brief taste of myth You don't shave sometimes to feel criminal And when you do you feel exceptionally last century The music you listen to was written by a man with woolly hair His cock was large and his genius was broad He found he could run fast when the rock fences were falling As you found were decidedly slow But the punches and the kicks felt alright Something to write to Frederico about An ode to pain perhaps, an ode to Sadism And where will the return address be? What land, city, bridge? Are you to dwell in the orchard all your life Pissing against the same trees as the other artists? Sleeping on top of the shadows, trying to slow the light Did you ever hear the myth of the Frenchman and the sailor? The Sailor fucked the Frenchman upon a ship that was carrying peaches From America to the port of Lamoux The more they fucked the more peaches were destroyed Until by the time they were hit b...