I woke up inside some cave
With drunk flowers and a prayer
The sun and moon were sleeping
And I met my Master there
He came down from the naked clouds
With snakeskin eyes and a rainbow-snippet
For all I ever yearned to own
Was a goldfish and that windkissed puppet
"Look, master, look!
All the words you spoke
Comes true at this hour
In the weary eyes of smoke!"
"Look, master, look!
I see your temple door
I see your broken light
Like I've never seen before!"
"Look, master, look!
I've no more fear
I've no more dreams
And no more songs to hear!"
Master, with slow floating clouds,
Was a child of the last-night-glow
With electric fragments of the street
To kiss the Angels of ivory snow
Master, he drank up from the gutters
Those neoned drops of gold
With lightened bolts of the I-circled mind
As lamp-flamed dew-drums rolled
Before the walls come closer
And before the roofs drown
Master seeks his frozen flute
In the mist-lit circus town
Before the sidewalks burn
In the bull-eyed red
To dream of lost kingdoms
By the wasted riverbed
Let's play the dumb-charade
By the ruins of that haze
Where chasing shadows fade
In the fading shadow-chase
And stuck, between the words
There, in the photographed cold
Every picture, in every altar
Signs of hands you couldn't hold
Master hides his silver
In the dream-bound puke-green grass
As mind becomes the body
By the three-horned jet-swim glass
And in that other subtle storm
Of purple five-hand-draws
Like bones and wishing stones
Which break down all your laws
Too much foam and froth
From the skulls of the beast
As he steps down from the mirror
To your bookmarked wrist
By every throbbing shade
Sitting next to me
The bewitched treasure trove
Of hidden ecstasy
I stole the wildest halo
From some rattle ruffled slur
To scale the gunned-down edges
Of that methyl Vedic blur
I saw the currents bloom
With lotus-serpent-coil
And the boot-heels of the foothills
In the corpse-damp soil
Master, by the bridge
Though it's easy not to speak
With music crack-voiced arms
And a million wounds to lick. Lick
I wake up with my knife
And ice-flame hiccup rings
With cracks that run too deep
And all those life-rust things
You stand up on your head
You try to eat the skies
You paint your timeless clocks
And kiss the dead man's eyes
As first came the worship
In law abiding motions
With sexless rhapsodies
And senseless Delphic visions
You stand in the subways
And see those flying brooms
Of witches from the moon
And thus the desert blooms!
Those wait-thirsty roots
From the beach-Viking-roads
With flicker flag-pole glints
And those hitchhiking toads
And Master melts the candled feathers
From the wax-curtained veins
With pieces from our ancient tethers
And whatever that remains
And Master sees your face
Stone-fanned, Gothic, flame-tongue
And Master takes your heart,
Own hand, magic, name-stung
And Master soars so high
On battered bats' wings
His song is long and true
Silence, while he sings!
And Master owns the dark
And the hands of empty graves
When midnightmadness haunts
And colours rule the waves
My trembling temples tumble
As Master brings the light
From those nylon nymphs
In the deathsome star-scarred night
