My Moist Red Tongue 2

Jim Larwill

Canadian Shield Chapbooks I.
Text Box: Pavlov Effect 1 ringring meat drool dog ringring meat drool dog ringring meat drool dog ringring drool dog ringring drool dog ringring drool dog ringring drool dog ringring drool dog ringring drool dog ringring ringring ringring ringring dog Signification is a drooling bell. And I want my God dam meat and to know who the hell is ringing that bell. Text Box: Pavlov Effect 2 Cokacola cunt drool man Cokacola cunt drool man Cokacola cunt drool man Cokacola drool man Cokacola drool man Cokacola drool man Cokacola drool man Cokacola drool man Cokacola drool man Cokacola Cokacola Cokacola Cokacola man Cokacola is the drool of capitalism. And I want the Real thing. Text Box: HYMN OF THE SEVEN STARS sometimes when it is raining in the middle of winter sometimes when your car won't start sometimes the phone calls leave you disconnected sometimes you just what her to be happy sometimes children all speak in tongues sometimes there are seven stars and in the night I hear voice of a man, his tongue split, his cloths torn, and he is kneeling before a sea of broken glass fragments in talons of an eagle slashing throat of a lion to rhythm of a bawling calf Text Box: and the book is open and I have no tears to give and I know if I had a white horse if I had a bow if I had a golden crown I would conquer I would call upon the black horse take the sword look into the Face tip the scales I would sing of satyragraha and my devotion to truth sing of being saved from my own patience ringing to beat of hammer and tong praying for the moon to turn red and the sun to be covered in sackcloth Text Box: let stars fall from the heavens let fire mingle with hail and blood let me rip the pages one by one fill my belly with bitter flesh as my teeth mutilate these images squeezing the honey from words as I dance and I dance taking into my hand claw of angels my voice prophesying to many peoples in all tongues, speaking of nations and every last shareholder for someday it will not rain in the middle of winter someday I will have nowhere to go someday I will pull the cord from the wall someday I will remember how to be angry ripping Christ down from the cross to crucify Buddha Text Box: TIN-MAN The tin-man is on the far roof eye on the job dressed in coverall blue. Last time I saw this tin-man these townhouse roofs were covered in a Siberia of snow. I climbed three stories one rung at a time and stepped from one reality onto wind swept plain of another. The tin-man half a roof away looked like a Russian tank commander Text Box: I walked over he pinched his hand-rolled cigarette turned away looked over Ottawa to the Gatineau hills. The wind continued to blow across a roof that had leaked in the dead of winter. I thought to myself this sure isn't California and shouted into the wind " Flat roof " Across from me the tin-man pulled the butt from his lips " Architect " and from the end of his tongue spat a strand of tobacco into the wind.