THE NOTES OF A DYING MAN
YOU MIGHT END UP WITH A WOMAN WHO LIMPS
I don't know when, And I don't know why
but you might end up with a woman
who limps
I clearly hear cacophony cascading around me
And you might end up with a woman
who limps
They're moving away as I remain
looking at the ground where your footsteps fell
pray tell
are you there?
For I am here, waiting
for a woman
who limps
Giron D'Agate 12/90
N.B. the reason this poem may seem inscrutable is that it was dedicated to my maternal grandfather' whom I was very close to, after his wife of 62 tears, my grandmother, passed away
PARA TU (FOR YOU)
Write your memoirs
on my legs,
So long
Let the sun
sink
Into the sea
Feel the cold water
rushing though the granite
hard by the lee
Then know the number
of your days
as rose petals blow
towards infinity
Giron D'Agate 1/91
JUXTAPOSE
Just suppose a hand
moves through glass
to a loaf of bread
beyond;
suddenly,
whispers in the deep
the rustle of leaves
unto the morning
while the hand of God
moves
through the waters
Giron D'Agate11/90
MADRE MIA (mother of mine)
the roots go in the ground
and I love you
Or branches to the sky;
yet I love you
Like yachts & motorcycles
And when our eyebrows meet
our heads entwine
you touch my epaulettes
lest I forget,
lest I forget,
I love you
Giron D'Agate 1995
DRINK DEEP THE CUP
Her smile came glancing
from the gloom
to stun those watching
in the room
of smoke-filled terror
where hearts swoon
with secret hope
to capture soon
perhaps, perchance
be captured by
the silent echo
of her sigh
when she walked past
brave men would cry
their vows of honor
"For you may I
lay down my life."
But just to glimpse
the unblemished thigh
that pimps
may not approach
so laughter limps
like fading years
or neon blimps
Drink deep the cup
reckless fellows
be bold and brazen
her bellows
shall fan the flames
of countless beaus
those shipwrecked souls
within her throes
Giron D'Agate
San Francisco 1978
WATERS OF LOVE
A small trickle at first
gave birth to a fountain
that grew into a stream
of affection and emotion
the stream became a river
with a torrent of devotion
which drowned me in its flood
and took me to an ocean
where I was carried
many days
on waves’ uncertain motion
'till I was lain
upon a shore
and dreamt about this
notion
that rains would wash me
with their pure and gentle potion
may I awake and find
your love
to
be
my lotion
BURSTING CATERPILLARS
Night creeps like a bully
to intimidate all
with muffled, angry, ugly screams
We hear its call
Western highway officers
In yellow day-glo vans
slink from swampy marshes
all wet, except their hands
One punctilious viper
a soldier for the queen
spreads oil on pin-up slogans
the rat-tat-tat machine
Giron D'Agate
NYC-1983
A DIARY OF LONELINESS
Quiet, like the breeze
of a summer's evening
has but to enfold you
in its mystery
until the thought of remaining
has gone
yet still you are there
the Sun has settled
upon the sea
a tulip blossoms
beside your seat
and the quiet of the breeze
stirs gently
across your brow
How can loneliness be conveyed
and yet still be alone?
something of its pure nature
forms a barrier
greater than a prison's
silent walls
the cocoon is formidable;
but like the flower
entices the bee
the beauty of your solitude
has spoken
an unseen power has pointed me
the fragrance has broken the seal
bound for ten thousand years
it touches my nostrils to enter as thought
fills the sweet night air
A melody yet faint
continues to be played
aided by the lark
it opens my eyes
to the magic path
then winding flows as the stream
to waft upon the embers of desire
within
a dream
D'AGATE
1976 California, U.S.
FEEDING THE PLANTS
I was walking around
looking for eight dollar bills
while thin black females
came through doors
going for six billion
a pop
I used to drink, ugly
Now
I just feed plants
to all of the abandoned Buddhas
and forlorn Christs
whose messengers scribe notes
on waves
crashing over the bow
of my ships!
Giron d’Agate circa 1989 @ Le Cirque W59th manhattan
THE AMATEUR ASSASSINS of ABYSSINIA
the effervescent
honk, honk, flashing lights
and blinking sidewalks
streets roll up the rain
trees dissolve into the concrete
madness
of a world of want
where happiness and ease
become silk
and bons-bons
you're turned around
like a bomb in a whorehouse
like a pinwheel in a hurricane
the sweet smell of perfume
and dynamite
haggard, blackened faces
stumbling on broken heels
into the morning
while the sun streams through dust
settling upon ashes
time to go home
climbing the steps slowly
heart pounding in your head
fall upon your bed
watch the drunken society
reel away
doing cartwheels of clowns
smilingly remembering
dreams of their youth
in the untouched forest
in the pristine place
the sweat is dew
upon your face
D'AGATE: SPRING of '89 NYC
WHAT DO YOU THINK?
loud voices call me
at night, issuing commands
like: “Take your shirt off, brother
and relax.”
they demand
No one else can hear them
I know they come from space
they say, "You shouldn't fuck
your mother,
or your sister's face.
Now pink elephants are tip-toeing
down 10th avenue
I see them from the subway car
Can you see them, too?
they issue soft commands
that only I can hear
like
take your shirt off, brother
It's hot out here
D'AGATE WASHINGTON, DC circa 1991 @d.c Space
THE CYNICAL
I saw you on fourteenth street
in your perfumed loungerie
and high-heeled platform boots
being followed by a big cat
with a insouciant swagger
you went into a Puerto Rican
lunch-counter and ordered a
tamale
I was across the street
on the third floor of the building
leaning out the window
with a high-powered rifle
and a Chinese scope
I blew that tamale all over
the neatly clipped black mustachios
of the Puerto Rican gentlemen
Fuck them
they don't know me
I was in your apartment
in the afternoon
when the sun streamed through the windows
illuminating green caterpillars
crawling on the pastel blue
plaster walls
we ate chocolate cupcakes
you lay languidly on the couch
with one arm outstretched
as though you'd just come back
from Amsterdam
Its so cliché
And the fifty dollars I gave you
for the blow-job on the pier
near the river
I need back
you must think I’m crazy
you thought I was so nice
when we first started going out
It just goes to show
you'd better be more
careful
who you talk to
D’AGATE NYC
THERE'S AN IRAQI SLEEPER AGENT AT 6TH AND HOUSTON-PASS IT DOWN
Yesterday was rough
the Jersey cops got stupid
they took my car
and tried to call me cupid
So I'm not thinking negative
'cause in the houses
where I live
Are bodies, rocks and bombs
This neighborhood is crazy
the cops are fucking lazy
they're filthy and they don't have any minds
they keep their brains in jars
then pull'em when they’re needed
which isn't all the time
my sister is a virgin
she showers in the kitchen
then falls upon her bed
all stinking wet
the other day I called her
to ask for five dollars
she said she'd do me
for a cigarette
because
Iraqi sleeper agents
are calling and clawing and crawling
through the spaces
in the walls
They're moving all around
they're hanging upside down
and that's the way it gets
in New York town
cha, cha, cha
SOFTLY SHE CRIES
A blue and dark emotion,
fills her eyes
a smoky gray horizon,
chars the skies
no answer to the question,
only lies
to uphold an illusion,
is it wise?
A cold and pallid morning,
greets her face
no escape from this dawning,
of disgrace
should she allow that feeling,
to replace
a love she is still yearning,
to embrace?
How can a heart of passion,
be so cruel
to trample without reason,
without rule
the life it must depend on,
for its fuel
carelessly tossed to ruin,
who's the fool?
watch bold, my tender angel
falter not
her departure from this evil
must be got
then heal the wound that may tell
of the plot
which scarred the fairest damsel…
Camelot
D'AGATE
HECTOR GUZMAN
il voce, il voce, il voce
the voices, the voices, the voices
are speaking to me again
through my ear &
to my brain
It was a misty day in April:
I was walking down
Carmine Street
looking at the back of the brick buildings
with their rotted, rusting casements
and all I could hear
were the sound of voices
like so many women
lying on their beds
hugging their pillows
and crying
And it was a misty day in
April
I was walking down Carmine
Street
looking at the back of the brick buildings
with their rotted,
rusting casements
and listening
to what sounded like
so many women
lying on their beds, hugging their pillows
and crying
But it was a misty day
in April
and I wasn't really
walking down Carmine Street
I was walking up Carmine Street
looking at the back of the
brick buildings
listening to the sounds
of all these women
lying on their beds
hugging their pillows
and crying
and it seemed that the more they hugged
their pillows
and the more they cried
the more their underwear
came down
so sit down, no, don’t sit down, sit up
sit up straight and shut up
now stand up
now STAND DOWN
and what the hell
do you think
is going
down?
D'AGATE
1994
NYC
YOUR SILENCE
The bold, gold thread
weaves through this evening
while the soft footsteps tread
through the misty shadows
A woman in scarlet garb
standing
on the corner
as if near a gallows
while I walk past her slowly
and smile meekly
not knowing her peril
or mine
say not, say not,
say not that we have wasted
our life and time
for within each passing moment
there is a miracle
and within each passing moment
there is a joy
unfound
The mundane occurrences
may pound the ground
without a sound
Yet when you touched
the essence of my being
We began to know the joy
that is lost
within
each
passing
moment
D'AGATE
CALIFORNIA 1979
TENON
Oranges, grapes
Oranges, grapes
Oranges, grapes and bananas
and grapes and oranges
and trees and sawdust
and mortars and mortars
and more mortars
just monuments to destruction
So greetings, felicitations
hallucinations ruminations
ruin of nations
Then you're born, you grow up
you pull up your slacks
you join the American military
you shoot them
they shoot you
you piss on them
they piss on you
and then…
D'AGATE
1992
THE RUSTY RABBLE-ROUSER'S REMORSE
Here I sit at the bar
My lady friend by my side
listening to the sounds
of the drunks and the half-drunks;
we've got a good thing going
sitting here at the bar listening to the sounds
and to each other
and to the struggle we make
of having fun
it isn't such a struggle, really
but then it isn't such a fun
Bonnie Face Ed just strolled in
with a scarf tucked under his chin
and a newspaper under his arm
gasp, ‘ghast, ‘Grab that paper!’
Someone cackles down the hall
‘Let me see the headlines, mate.’
Let me see the tigers dancing in the mall
The gumshoe rackets
and the native brides
hiding behind the palm trees
it seems strange to see them here,
at the bar
the bartender's blue-eyed grin
shines like a halo
over the smoke-filled room
while a woman of the evening
strolls past my chair
noiselessly in search
of an ill-fated groom
‘Go ahead kid, take a crack
at a real romance.’
you never know how you'll feel
until you've been felt by someone
who's good
a firefly kitten purrs by my seat
then a cut glass waiter pulls up a seat
at the bar
Thee, thee, the obloquy soliloquy
continues its mellow hum
as ten thousand red-nosed
faces
chatter of stinking rum
tinder box, tinder box
kindle a dream
carry me away on gossamer wings
to a land that's made of cream
melt these harsh surroundings
down
find me a pillow of grace
let me sleep the centuries by
and awake in a fair and
friendly place
Alexander rabbit has bitten
my shin
the cobras of materialism
pierce my skin
a heady feeling fills my mind:
“Come on let's rip this
world apart and find another
that's got some heart.”
Yeah, you heard what I said
I said that I'd rather screw a bull elephant
than sleep with you in bed
Now, don't take it personally
but I meant what I said
that every pink-faced
rat-eyed sloth whom I see tonight
is better off
dead
So how's the marble lady
you told me would come by
the other evening
when I started to cry
and wept so loud
because my friends have all left me,
alone
with this motley crowd
to bet on a dream
that will never come true
I'm hoping for a star
which will fall on cue,
at the bar
D’AGATE HENRY AFRICA’S SALOON S.F., CA 1978
OH SHIT
three elephants in mini-skirts
have been sending me letters
I was kissed by a whale who said
he licked every grain of sand
from Irkutsk to Bophuthat-swanaland
Jesus Christ
I hang out with the Roscommon militia,
three days late
And tell me, I read it in a book
you cannot put linseed oil on wood
nine times
so don't tell me, Mr. President
but we're being followed by a rabbit
that's six hundred and forty-two
thousand kilometers high
from the Potomac river
to seventh street and
avenue A
who's on first?
D’AGATE MANHATTAN
SANG FROID
(COLD BLOOD)
Lutece parlance
begets rakish nonchalance
sophomoric logic
and Govinda-like nuance
Krakatoa gets me
off the beaten track
truthfully, my darling
I've no desire to go back
the elements are speaking
to me now beyond the pack
should I heed them, really?
cut the cord
and put the tack
D'AGATE
NYC 1982
THE BALTIMORE QUAKE
Once, when I was healthy
before I could see
I went to a blue nightclub
and fell on my knee
That selfsame morning
tunneling up the road
I spied a treasure chest
that looked real old
Its contents told me
all I needed to know
of heaven, of women, of money
and what time it would snow
the oddest fact I found therein
was talk of an earthquake
in Baltimore, Maryland
that shivered my timbers
so back I went
to the night club
where my time I'd spent
And ordered ten drinks
just to keep steady
when the big one hit
I wanted to be... ready
about drink number nine
a fox walked in
with a forty-four bust
so I gave her a gin
And that made ten, and then
she started to shake
I'm here to tell you
we did the Baltimore... quake
D'AGATE, 1992
Baltimore, MD
THE MORTAL REMAINS OF GOD KNOWS WHO
mud turtles, crickets, parakeets
and snails
appeared at poor who's funeral
late, to no avail
they say who had trouble
seeing people through
he could see them above skies
below ground, brand new
who was working his face
by the lighthouse at tea
then drowned in a river
near Chesapeake E
That same afternoon
about six o'clock
who stood on the dock
and woke us up
saying "Hey dudes, it's me!"
of Chesapeake E
that's all I can tell you now
no Baltimore
D’AGATE FELL’S POINT MD
BACK PAGE CLASSIC
U can't lose a hurricane
eye may find you there
so few thoughts go by, cuz
'cause yew ain't here
Zoe was, so I am
et vous tu? si, c'est ma
we hold on to airy walls
as lightning falls
lo, the center of the abyss
like slow love through years
the dust of creation
lands upon the waters
the tears of our eyes
D'AGATE
1988 Long Island, NY
PER ASPERA AD ASTRA
(WE WANT HEAVEN)
je t’aime mon ami
I love you, my friend
sounds funny
to those in fields
where snowflakes melt
upon the warm skin
of lifeless form
This long thing
some call time
of castle rocks
in winter's rhyme
As soon as you can
call this phone
for madness lurks
where devils roam
in hordes like waves
in seas of foam
there animated mannequins
delight
D'AGATE DUBLIN, IRELAND --1989
BERLIN
Netherlands cops
in pink tutti-frutti
bake king's row slate
for fresh raw booty
beauty cuts them
from below
love is active
light is slow
when I go trysting
with my lady
the fields pay attention
her name isn't Sadie
her name is woman
of Berlin
sometimes London
Finn nee Quinn
Senegal, Perth, Rio
and Troy
I've forgotten now
I call her...boy
D"AGATE NYC 1983
Once Around the Sun
tall white male
seeks carefree mate
cast a doubtful
eye towards fate
has a garden
yet unweeded
has a field
yet unseeded
candidate must
steer by the stars
to a heaven
known as ours
D'AGATE
NYC 1983
Lexington Ave + 64th St..
BREATHE, GOLDEN MOON
Upon the sea of time
dusk has lifted this mellow orb
to herald night's serenity
the eastern bank of evening's sky
carries the torch aloft
as a memory in the cosmos
it serves to remind us
of the procession of events
Immemorable
It does not mock our insignificance
because it beholds its own
although it does despise
That it is the lesser guide
Breathe, golden moon
to set afire the thought
that is the light of the mind
just as gravity is our companion
so light and color and substance
must have their due
where we as partakers
must partake of ourselves
yet caught between the question
and the clue
at such an oblique angle
there is the space of something missing
which seems to say
I take it all away
Breathe golden moon
upon this laughing cloud
set to life the universal play
where whose most minute cog
was left to hold sway
our destinies have mingled with the atom
it is our chosen garb
just as one who plucks
a dark pearl
from the gleaming sands
I see this pearl resting in my palm
it is the universe
I place it back upon the shore,
beside the sea, beneath
the sky
and somehow it has changed
its point of view
D'AGATE
FIN
(THE END)
I've got some very, very
bad news
for youz
youz got no yeggs
youz got no shoes
and all your voices
dissipate
in wild frenzy
really late
It seems they melt much worse
than snow
and as the mountains go
they go
Because they fall into
a wonderment
and then they're lent
to Satan, not to Joe
their final happy resting place
is not with God
in outer Space
But placed within the deep
that cold high-pressure deep
that cold unfeeling deep
an dark and deep
and dead
except for me
for I have lived within
that deep before
and loved within
that deep before
And nothing more
D'AGATE
Phila, PA
1991
"then find the iron shaft
and drive it to the cold
stone heart universe
for there shall I be, also"
from Jimmy's Omniscient Bitch
D'AGATE 1988
Devils go HA HA HA HA HA
Angels go HA HA HA HA HA
I go HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
Shitting on my own grave
Smiles smiles smiles on my brain
THE NOTES OF A DYING MAN
YOU MIGHT END UP WITH A WOMAN WHO LIMPS
I don't know when
And I don't know why
but you might end up
with a woman
who limps
I clearly hear cacophonies
cascading around me
And you might end up
with a woman
who limps
They're moving away
as I remain
looking at the ground
where your footsteps
fell
pray tell
are you there?
For I am here
waiting
for a woman
who limps
Giron D'Agate 12/90
PARA TU (FOR YOU)
Write your memoirs
on my legs,
So long
Let the sun
sink
Into the sea
Feel the cold water
rushing though the granite
hard by the lee
Then know the number
of your days
as rose petals blow
towards infinity
Giron D'Agate 1/91
JUXTAPOSE
Just suppose a hand
moves through glass
to a loaf of bread
beyond;
suddenly,
whispers in the deep
the rustle of leaves
unto the morning
while the hand of God
moves
through the waters
Giron D'Agate11/90
MADRE MIA (mother of mine)
the roots go in the ground
and I love you
Or branches to the sky;
yet I love you
Like yachts & motorcycles
And when our eyebrows meet
our heads entwine
you touch my epaulettes
lest I forget,
lest I forget,
I love you
Giron D'Agate 1995
DRINK DEEP THE CUP
Her smile came glancing
from the gloom
to stun those watching
in the room
of smoke-filled terror
where hearts swoon
with secret hope
to capture soon
perhaps, perchance
be captured by
the silent echo
of her sigh
when she walked past
brave men would cry
their vows of honor
"For you may I
lay down my life."
But just to glimpse
the unblemished thigh
that pimps
may not approach
so laughter limps
like fading years
or neon blimps
Drink deep the cup
reckless fellows
be bold and brazen
her bellows
shall fan the flames
of countless beaus
those shipwrecked souls
within her throes
Giron D'Agate
San Francisco 1978
WATERS OF LOVE
A small trickle at first
gave birth to a fountain
that grew into a stream
of affection and emotion
the stream became a river
with a torrent of devotion
which drowned me in its flood
and took me to an ocean
where I was carried
many days
on waves’ uncertain motion
'till I was lain
upon a shore
and dreamt about this
notion
that rains would wash me
with their pure and gentle potion
may I awake and find
your love
to
be
my lotion
BURSTING CATERPILLARS
Night creeps like a bully
to intimidate all
with muffled, angry, ugly screams
We hear its call
Western highway officers
In yellow day-glo vans
slink from swampy marshes
all wet, except their hands
One punctilious viper
a soldier for the queen
spreads oil on pin-up slogans
the rat-tat-tat machine
Giron D'Agate
NYC-1983
A DIARY OF LONELINESS
Quiet, like the breeze
of a summer's evening
has but to enfold you
in its mystery
until the thought of remaining
has gone
yet still you are there
the Sun has settled
upon the sea
a tulip blossoms
beside your seat
and the quiet of the breeze
stirs gently
across your brow
How can loneliness be conveyed
and yet still be alone?
something of its pure nature
forms a barrier
greater than a prison's
silent walls
the cocoon is formidable;
but like the flower
entices the bee
the beauty of your solitude
has spoken
an unseen power has pointed me
the fragrance has broken the seal
bound for ten thousand years
it touches my nostrils to enter as thought
fills the sweet night air
A melody yet faint
continues to be played
aided by the lark
it opens my eyes
to the magic path
then winding flows as the stream
to waft upon the embers of desire
within
a dream
D'AGATE
1976 California, U.S.
FEEDING THE PLANTS
I was walking around
looking for eight dollar bills
while thin black females
came through doors
going for six billion
a pop
I used to drink, ugly
Now
I just feed plants
to all of the abandoned Buddhas
and forlorn Christs
whose messengers scribe notes
on waves
crashing over the bow
of my ships!
Giron d’Agate circa 1989 @ Le Cirque W59th manhattan
THE AMATEUR ASSASSINS of ABYSSINIA
the effervescent
honk, honk, flashing lights
and blinking sidewalks
streets roll up the rain
trees dissolve into the concrete
madness
of a world of want
where happiness and ease
become silk
and bons-bons
you're turned around
like a bomb in a whorehouse
like a pinwheel in a hurricane
the sweet smell of perfume
and dynamite
haggard, blackened faces
stumbling on broken heels
into the morning
while the sun streams through dust
settling upon ashes
time to go home
climbing the steps slowly
heart pounding in your head
fall upon your bed
watch the drunken society
reel away
doing cartwheels of clowns
smilingly remembering
dreams of their youth
in the untouched forest
in the pristine place
the sweat is dew
upon your face
D'AGATE: SPRING of '89 NYC
WHAT DO YOU THINK?
loud voices call me
at night, issuing commands
like: “Take your shirt off, brother
and relax.”
they demand
No one else can hear them
I know they come from space
they say, "You shouldn't fuck
your mother,
or your sister's face.
Now pink elephants are tip-toeing
down 10th avenue
I see them from the subway car
Can you see them, too?
they issue soft commands
that only I can hear
like
take your shirt off, brother
It's hot out here
D'AGATE WASHINGTON, DC circa 1991 @d.c Space
THE CYNICAL
I saw you on fourteenth street
in your perfumed loungerie
and high-heeled platform boots
being followed by a big cat
with a insouciant swagger
you went into a Puerto Rican
lunch-counter and ordered a
tamale
I was across the street
on the third floor of the building
leaning out the window
with a high-powered rifle
and a Chinese scope
I blew that tamale all over
the neatly clipped black mustachios
of the Puerto Rican gentlemen
Fuck them
they don't know me
I was in your apartment
in the afternoon
when the sun streamed through the windows
illuminating green caterpillars
crawling on the pastel blue
plaster walls
we ate chocolate cupcakes
you lay languidly on the couch
with one arm outstretched
as though you'd just come back
from Amsterdam
Its so cliché
And the fifty dollars I gave you
for the blow-job on the pier
near the river
I need back
you must think I’m crazy
you thought I was so nice
when we first started going out
It just goes to show
you'd better be more
careful
who you talk to
D’AGATE NYC
THERE'S AN IRAQI SLEEPER AGENT AT 6TH AND HOUSTON-PASS IT DOWN
Yesterday was rough
the Jersey cops got stupid
they took my car
and tried to call me cupid
So I'm not thinking negative
'cause in the houses
where I live
Are bodies, rocks and bombs
This neighborhood is crazy
the cops are fucking lazy
they're filthy and they don't have any minds
they keep their brains in jars
then pull'em when they’re needed
which isn't all the time
my sister is a virgin
she showers in the kitchen
then falls upon her bed
all stinking wet
the other day I called her
to ask for five dollars
she said she'd do me
for a cigarette
because
Iraqi sleeper agents
are calling and clawing and crawling
through the spaces
in the walls
They're moving all around
they're hanging upside down
and that's the way it gets
in New York town
cha, cha, cha
SOFTLY SHE CRIES
A blue and dark emotion,
fills her eyes
a smoky gray horizon,
chars the skies
no answer to the question,
only lies
to uphold an illusion,
is it wise?
A cold and pallid morning,
greets her face
no escape from this dawning,
of disgrace
should she allow that feeling,
to replace
a love she is still yearning,
to embrace?
How can a heart of passion,
be so cruel
to trample without reason,
without rule
the life it must depend on,
for its fuel
carelessly tossed to ruin,
who's the fool?
watch bold, my tender angel
falter not
her departure from this evil
must be got
then heal the wound that may tell
of the plot
which scarred the fairest damsel…
Camelot
D'AGATE
HECTOR GUZMAN
il voce, il voce, il voce
the voices, the voices, the voices
are speaking to me again
through my ear &
to my brain
It was a misty day in April:
I was walking down
Carmine Street
looking at the back of the brick buildings
with their rotted, rusting casements
and all I could hear
were the sound of voices
like so many women
lying on their beds
hugging their pillows
and crying
And it was a misty day in
April
I was walking down Carmine
Street
looking at the back of the brick buildings
with their rotted,
rusting casements
and listening
to what sounded like
so many women
lying on their beds, hugging their pillows
and crying
But it was a misty day
in April
and I wasn't really
walking down Carmine Street
I was walking up Carmine Street
looking at the back of the
brick buildings
listening to the sounds
of all these women
lying on their beds
hugging their pillows
and crying
and it seemed that the more they hugged
their pillows
and the more they cried
the more their underwear
came down
so sit down, no, don’t sit down, sit up
sit up straight and shut up
now stand up
now STAND DOWN
and what the hell
do you think
is going
down?
D'AGATE
1994
NYC
YOUR SILENCE
The bold, gold thread
weaves through this evening
while the soft footsteps tread
through the misty shadows
A woman in scarlet garb
standing
on the corner
as if near a gallows
while I walk past her slowly
and smile meekly
not knowing her peril
or mine
say not, say not,
say not that we have wasted
our life and time
for within each passing moment
there is a miracle
and within each passing moment
there is a joy
unfound
The mundane occurrences
may pound the ground
without a sound
Yet when you touched
the essence of my being
We began to know the joy
that is lost
within
each
passing
moment
D'AGATE
CALIFORNIA 1979
TENON
Oranges, grapes
Oranges, grapes
Oranges, grapes and bananas
and grapes and oranges
and trees and sawdust
and mortars and mortars
and more mortars
just monuments to destruction
So greetings, felicitations
hallucinations ruminations
ruin of nations
Then you're born, you grow up
you pull up your slacks
you join the American military
you shoot them
they shoot you
you piss on them
they piss on you
and then…
D'AGATE
1992
THE RUSTY RABBLE-ROUSER'S REMORSE
Here I sit at the bar
My lady friend by my side
listening to the sounds
of the drunks and the half-drunks;
we've got a good thing going
sitting here at the bar listening to the sounds
and to each other
and to the struggle we make
of having fun
it isn't such a struggle, really
but then it isn't such a fun
Bonnie Face Ed just strolled in
with a scarf tucked under his chin
and a newspaper under his arm
gasp, ‘ghast, ‘Grab that paper!’
Someone cackles down the hall
‘Let me see the headlines, mate.’
Let me see the tigers dancing in the mall
The gumshoe rackets
and the native brides
hiding behind the palm trees
it seems strange to see them here,
at the bar
the bartender's blue-eyed grin
shines like a halo
over the smoke-filled room
while a woman of the evening
strolls past my chair
noiselessly in search
of an ill-fated groom
‘Go ahead kid, take a crack
at a real romance.’
you never know how you'll feel
until you've been felt by someone
who's good
a firefly kitten purrs by my seat
then a cut glass waiter pulls up a seat
at the bar
Thee, thee, the obloquy soliloquy
continues its mellow hum
as ten thousand red-nosed
faces
chatter of stinking rum
tinder box, tinder box
kindle a dream
carry me away on gossamer wings
to a land that's made of cream
melt these harsh surroundings
down
find me a pillow of grace
let me sleep the centuries by
and awake in a fair and
friendly place
Alexander rabbit has bitten
my shin
the cobras of materialism
pierce my skin
a heady feeling fills my mind:
“Come on let's rip this
world apart and find another
that's got some heart.”
Yeah, you heard what I said
I said that I'd rather screw a bull elephant
than sleep with you in bed
Now, don't take it personally
but I meant what I said
that every pink-faced
rat-eyed sloth whom I see tonight
is better off
dead
So how's the marble lady
you told me would come by
the other evening
when I started to cry
and wept so loud
because my friends have all left me,
alone
with this motley crowd
to bet on a dream
that will never come true
I'm hoping for a star
which will fall on cue,
at the bar
D’AGATE HENRY AFRICA’S SALOON S.F., CA 1978
OH SHIT
three elephants in mini-skirts
have been sending me letters
I was kissed by a whale who said
he licked every grain of sand
from Irkutsk to Bophuthat-swanaland
Jesus Christ
I hang out with the Roscommon militia,
three days late
And tell me, I read it in a book
you cannot put linseed oil on wood
nine times
so don't tell me, Mr. President
but we're being followed by a rabbit
that's six hundred and forty-two
thousand kilometers high
from the Protomac River
to Seventh Street and
Avenue A
who's on first?
D’AGATE MANHATTAN
SANG FROID
(COLD BLOOD)
Lutece parlance
begets rakish nonchalance
sophomoric logic
and Govinda-like nuance
Krakatoa gets me
off the beaten track
truthfully, my darling
I've no desire to go back
the elements are speaking
to me now beyond the pack
should I heed them, really?
cut the cord
and put the tack
D'AGATE
NYC 1982
THE BALTIMORE QUAKE
Once, when I was healthy
before I could see
I went to a blue nightclub
and fell on my knee
That selfsame morning
tunneling up the road
I spied a treasure chest
that looked real old
Its contents told me
all I needed to know
of heaven, of women, of money
and what time it would snow
the oddest fact I found therein
was talk of an earthquake
in Baltimore, Maryland
that shivered my timbers
so back I went
to the night club
where my time I'd spent
And ordered ten drinks
just to keep steady
when the big one hit
I wanted to be... ready
about drink number nine
a fox walked in
with a forty-four bust
so I gave her a gin
And that made ten, and then
she started to shake
I'm here to tell you
we did the Baltimore... quake
D'AGATE, 1992
Baltimore, MD
THE MORTAL REMAINS OF GOD KNOWS WHO
mud turtles, crickets, parakeets
and snails
appeared at poor who's funeral
late, to no avail
they say who had trouble
seeing people through
he could see them above skies
below ground, brand new
who was working his face
by the lighthouse at tea
then drowned in a river
near Chesapeake E
That same afternoon
about six o'clock
who stood on the dock
and woke us up
saying "Hey dudes, it's me!"
of Chesapeake E
that's all I can tell you now
no Baltimore
D’AGATE FELL’S POINT MD. 1991
BACK PAGE CLASSIC
U can't lose a hurricane
eye may find you there
so few thoughts go by, cuz
'cause yew ain't here
Zoe was, so I am
et vous tu? si, c'est ma
we hold on to airy walls
as lightning falls
lo, the center of the abyss
like slow love through years
the dust of creation
lands upon the waters
the tears of our eyes
D'AGATE
1988 Long Island, NY
PER ASPERA AD ASTRA
(we want Heaven!)
je t’aime mon ami
I love you, my friend
sounds funny
to those in fields
where snowflakes melt
upon the warm skin
of lifeless form
This long thing
some call time
of castle rocks
or winter's rhyme
As soon as you can
call this phone
for madness lurks
where devils roam
in hordes like waves
in seas of foam
there animated mannequins
delight
D'AGATE DUBLIN, IRELAND --1989
BERLIN
Netherlands cops
in pink tutti-frutti
bake king's row slate
for fresh raw booty
beauty cuts them
from below
love is active
light is slow
when I go trysting
with my lady
the fields pay attention
her name isn't Sadie
her name is woman
of Berlin
sometimes London
Finn nee Quinn
Senegal, Perth, Rio
and Troy
I've forgotten now
I call her...boy
D"AGATE NYC 1983
Once Around the Sun
tall white male
seeks carefree mate
cast a doubtful
eye towards fate
has a garden
yet unweeded
has a field
yet unseeded
candidate must
steer by the stars
to a heaven
known as ours
D'AGATE
NYC 1983
Lexington Ave + 64th St..
BREATHE, GOLDEN MOON
Upon the sea of time
dusk has lifted this mellow orb
to herald night's serenity
the eastern bank of evening's sky
carries the torch aloft
as a memory in the cosmos
it serves to remind us
of the procession of events
Immemorable
It does not mock our insignificance
because it beholds its own
although it does despise
That it is the lesser guide
Breathe, golden moon
to set afire the thought
that is the light of the mind
just as gravity is our companion
so light and color and substance
must have their due
where we as partakers
must partake of ourselves
yet caught between the question
and the clue
at such an oblique angle
there is the space of something missing
which seems to say
I take it all away
Breathe golden moon
upon this laughing cloud
set to life the universal play
where whose most minute cog
was left to hold sway
our destinies have mingled with the atom
it is our chosen garb
just as one who plucks
a dark pearl
from the gleaming sands
I see this pearl resting in my palm
it is the universe
I place it back upon the shore,
beside the sea, beneath
the sky
and somehow it has changed
its point of view
D'AGATE
FIN
(THE END)
I've got some very, very
bad news
for youz
youz got no yeggs
youz got no shoes
and all your voices
dissipate
in wild frenzy
really late
It seems they melt much worse
than snow
and as the mountains go
they go
Because they fall into
a wonderment
and then they're lent
to Satan, not to Joe
their final happy resting place
is not with God
in outer Space
But placed within the deep
that cold high-pressure deep
that cold unfeeling deep
an dark and deep
and dead
except for me
for I have lived within
that deep before
and loved within
that deep before
And nothing more
D'AGATE
Phila, PA
1991
"then find the iron shaft
and drive it to the cold
stone heart universe
for there shall I be, also"
from Jimmy's Omniscient Bitch
D'AGATE 1988
Devils go HA HA HA HA HA
Angels go HA HA HA HA HA
I go HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
Shitting on my own grave
Smiles smiles smiles on my brain
124 2411111124 NOTES OF A DYING MAN.Copyright © 1996 by D'AGATE NEW YORK
124 2411111124 NOTES OF A DYING MAN.Copyright © 1996 by D'AGATE NEW YORK
