Another Way to Play Page 4

  I wash the automatic handle with the

  gas station design I’m looking

  at the popsicle and trying to hurry

  so I can get whats left of it before it all

  melts away when the automatic goes off

  the bullet enters my forehead with

  the boulevard design and I forget

  about the popsicle I forget

  about the bullet

  I go out

  CONVERSATION WITH MYSELF

  “un natural”

  (un natural?

  to love yourself

  those like you?

  “It’s only natural with a woman”

  (think of sucking a cock )

  “UGH!!! THAT DIRTY SMELLY UGLY SWEATY

  THING!!!”

  (think of a woman sucking

  your

  cock

  not so ugh?

  then what must you think of her “them”

  any woman is a fag & vice versa?

  meaning you don’t like men &

  you don’t like women

  or think much of them

  if you can

  see

  enjoy

  desire to have them do

  things you despise doing

  &

  you don’t like yourself

  after all

  it could be your cock )

  I WISH I COULD TELL YOU ABOUT IT,

  HOW IT REMINDS ME OF YOU

  There’s a window in our house looks out on 1956

  every time I draw the blinds a thirteen-year-old kid

  cries himself to sleep

  and in a ladies room on the boardwalk somewhere

  a nineteen-year-old woman with a moustache doesn’t

  even wonder why she did it

  can’t remember his name

  sits on a wood slat chair and dreams, no, tries to remember

  doesn’t know he cried in the sand under the boardwalk she

  works on

  doesn’t know he was thirteen

  doesn’t give a shit

  doesn’t, isn’t, sure of anything but boardwalks, sitting down,

  how people act

  in bathrooms

  in her

  Not even thirteen, eleven, twelve, just barely a bird

  with feathers

  Usually we just leave the blinds down, turn over the record,

  go back to sleep til the kids come

  then its time to do: what it was like before good old

  rock’n’roll

  I wish I could tell you about it.

  MY LIFE

  (Wyrd Press 1975)

  MY LIFE

  I ate everything they put in front of me

  read everything they put before my eyes

  shook my ass, cried over movie musicals

  was a sissy and a thug, a punk and an

  intellectual, a cocksucker and a mother

  fucker, helped create two new people,

  paid taxes, voted and served four years

  and a few weeks in the United States Air

  Force, was court martialed and tried

  civilly, in jail and in college, kicked

  out of college, boy scouts, altar boys

  and one of the two gangs I belonged to,

  I was suspended from grammar and high

  schools, arrested at eleven the year I

  had my first “real sex” with a woman

  and with a boy, I waited nineteen years

  to try it again with a male and was sorry

  I waited so long, I waited two weeks to

  try it again with a woman and was sorry

  I waited so long, wrote, poetry and

  fiction, political essays, leaflets and

  reviews, I was a “jazz musician” and a

  dope dealer, taught junior high for two

  weeks, high school Upward Bound for two

  years, college for four years, I got up

  at 5 AM to unload trucks at Proctor and

  Gamble to put myself through classes

  at the University of Iowa, I washed

  dishes and bussed tables, swept floors

  and cleaned leaders and gutters, washed

  windows and panhandled, handled a forty

  foot ladder alone at thirteen, wrote

  several novels not very good and none

  published, published poems and stories

  and articles and books of poems, was

  reviewed, called “major,” compared to

  “The Teen Queens,” mistaken for black,

  for gay, for straight, for older, for

  younger for bigger for better for richer

  for poorer for stupider for smarter for

  somebody else, fell in love with a black

  woman at 18, kicked out of the family

  for wanting to marry her at 20, I sucked

  cock and got fucked and fucked and got

  sucked, I was known for being a big

  jerk off, a wise ass, for always getting

  my ass kicked so bad neighborhood kids

  would ask to see the marks, for running

  for sheriff of Johnson County Iowa in ’68

  on the “Peace and Freedom” ticket and

  pulling in several thousand votes, for

  winning people to the cause with emotional

  spontaneous speeches at rallies and on TV,

  for being a regular guy, a romantic

  idealist, a suicidal weatherman, a bomb

  throwing anarchist, an SDS leader, a

  communist, a class chauvinist, an

  asexual politico, a boring socialist,

  the proletarian man, a horny androgyne,

  a junkie, a boozer, a loser, a nigger

  lover, a black woman’s white man, a

  race traitor, a greaser, a fast man

  with my hands, a hood, a chickenshit,

  a crazy head, an unmarked thoroughbred,

  a courageous human being, a Catholic,

  a fallen away Catholic, An Irish American

  Democrat, a working class Irish American

  writer from a family of cops, a skinny

  jive time street philosopher, a power

  head, an underground movie star, a

  quiet shy guy, a genius, an innovator,

  a duplicator, a faker, a good friend,

  a fickle lover, an ass lover, a muff

  diver, another pretty face, a lousy

  athlete, a generous cat, an ambitious

  young man, a very tough paddy, a macho

  hippie, a faggot gangster, a faggot,

  a big crazy queen, a straight man, a

  strong man, a sissy, a shithead, a

  home wrecker, a reckless experimenter

  with other peoples lives, a demagogue,

  a fanatic, a cheap propagandizer, a

  fantastic organizer, a natural born

  leader, a naive upstart, an arrogant

  jitterbug, a white nigger, an easy lay,

  a pushover, a hard working husband,

  a henpecked husband, the black sheep,

  a crazy mixed up kid, a juvenile delinquent,

  a misfit, a surrealist, an actualist,

  an Iowa poet, a political poet, an open

  field poet, a street poet, a bad poet,

  a big mouth, a voice of the sixties,

  a pretty poet, a gay poet, a clit kissing

  tit sucking ass licking body objectifying

  poet, a gigolo, a jerk, a poor boy, an

  old man, an assman, unsteady, immature,

  charismatic, over confident, over 30,

  impetuous, a rock, a pawn, a tool, a

  potato lover, a great teacher, loyal

  friend, concerned citizen, a humanist,

  the bosses son, Bambi’s old man, Lee’s

  husband, Matthew’s ex-lover, Terry’s

&nbs
p; partner, Slater’s main man, the bishop’s

  favorite altar boy, the landlady’s pet,

  the class clown, the baby of the family,

  the neighborhood stranger, the hardest

  working kid, with the rosiest cheeks, who

  was an instigator, a trouble maker,

  too smart for my own good, too soft,

  too distant, too honest, too cold, too

  tactless, uncommunicative, anal retentive,

  self-sufficient, shameless, unsophisticated,

  too butch, too skinny, too white, too

  defensive, too hungry, apologetic, in-

  decisive, unpredictable, I never hit a

  woman or woke up gloomy, I’m a light

  sleeper, an affectionate father, a bad

  drinker, a city boy, paranoid, compulsive,

  and a terrific body surfer, I love the

  hipness in me I thought was black back

  in the ’50s, the vulnerability I took for

  feminine in the ’70s, I hate the poor kid

  act I’ve pulled on strangers and friends

  to start them out owing me, I learned to

  cook and to sew, stopped chewing gum and

  biting my nails, I was a weather observer,

  a map maker, a printer’s devil, a

  carpenter’s helper, a glazier, a locksmith,

  editor, publisher, promoter and critic,

  I stopped dancing at 15 and started again

  at 30, math was my best subject, languages

  my worst, I’ve been knocked out several

  times but only one black eye and one

  fractured thumb, I’ve totaled several

  cars but I’m an ace driver especially

  in cities, I haven’t had an accident since

  I stopped drinking, knock on wood, I’m

  extremely superstitious, don’t speak too

  soon, I gave up cigarettes and coffee and

  using the words chick, spade and asshole,

  I’ve read Confucius, Buddha, Lao Tzu,

  The Upanishads, The Bhagavad Gita, The

  Koran, The Bible, The Prophet, Thus Spake

  Zarathustra, Marx, Trotsky, Stalin, Lenin,

  Mao, Che, Hesse, Proust, Firestone, Fanon,

  Castenada and Davis, I read all of Joyce

  and all of Dostoevsky in translation

  at least two times through on night shifts

  in weather towers through 1961 and 62,

  I love all of William Saroyan, Van

  Morrison, Jane Bowles, Samuel Beckett,

  Joe Brainard, and Bertold Brecht, I’m

  finally getting to know and like some

  “classical music,” I went to my first

  ballet, opera, and concert this year and

  loved all of it, took my first trip out

  of the country and was glad to get back

  although it was great, I love the USA and

  many of the people in it, I’m afraid of

  my own anger, and any kind of violence,

  I’ve been the same weight since 1957 though

  I have an enormous appetite, my hair’s

  turning gray, I’ve had it cut three times

  since 1966, I spit a lot and pick my nose

  too much, I could buy new shoes, eat ice

  cream, chicken or chocolate pudding anytime,

  I’m afraid of dogs and hate zoos, I’m

  known for my second winds especially

  when dancing or eating, I used to think

  of myself as a dreamer, I had a vision

  at 9 that I’d die between 42 and 46,

  the image was me doubling over clutching

  my stomach, whenever I’m embarrassed I

  see that in my head, some of my nicknames

  have been Faggy, Rocky, Spider, Brutus,

  Paddy Cat, Newark, Irish, and The Lal,

  I’m a father, son, brother, cousin,

  brother-in-law, uncle, record breaker,

  war child, veteran, and nut about Lauren

  Bacall, James Cagney, Robert Mitchum,

  Bogie and Brando, Last Tango and The

  Conformist are the favorite movies of

  my adult life, I’ve fallen in love with

  eyes, asses, thighs, wrists, lips, skin,

  color, hair, style, movement, bodies,

  auras, potential, accents, atmospheres,

  clothes, imaginations, sophistication,

  histories, families, couples, friends,

  rooms full of people, parks, cities,

  entire states, talked to trees since

  1956 and the wind since ’52, between ’56

  and ’59 I had few friends and a “bad

  reputation” which made it difficult

  to get dates with “nice girls,” in 1960

  and ’61 I had more friends and several

  lovers, I was at the SDS split in Chicago

  in 1969 and didn’t like either side’s

  position or tactics, I almost cried

  when I heard John Coltrane had died,

  and Ho Chi Minh, Babe Ruth, Jack

  Kerouac, Eric Dolphy, Roberto Clemente,

  Moose Conlon, Frankie Lyman, Fred

  Hampton, Allende, Clifford Brown,

  Richie Valens and Buddy Holly in that

  plane crash, the four little girls

  in that Alabama church, the students

  at Orangeburg, the “weather people”

  in the town house explosion which I

  always figured was a set up, my uncle

  Frank and my uncle John, my grandparents,

  lots of people, I did cry when I thought

  about the deaths of the Kent State and

  Jackson State students, when I heard

  Ralph Dickey had “taken his life” or

  the first time I heard Jackson Browne

  do his “Song for Adam” or when Marlon

  Brando as Terry finds his brother Charley

  (Rod Steiger) hanging dead on the fence

  in On the Waterfront and before going

  to get the murderers says something to

  Eva Marie Saint like “And for god’s sake

  don’t leave him here alone” or when he

  talks to his dead wife in Last Tango

  or finds Red Buttons and his wife

  have committed suicide in Sayonara

  I’ve cried a lot over movies especially

  old ones on TV, I’ve never cried at a

  play but I still haven’t seen many, the

  only Broadway plays I’ve seen were My

  Fair Lady and Bye Bye Birdie, I

  watched my mother die, I’ve paid my dues,

  been through the mill, come up from the

  streets, done it my way, had that once

  in a lifetime thing, had trouble with

  my bowels ever since I can remember

  then in ’72 my body became more relaxed,

  I’ve had the clap, crabs, scabies,

  syphilis, venereal warts, and unidentified

  infections in my cock, my ass, my throat,

  all over my body, I’ve been terribly

  sunburned and covered with scabs from

  fights and accidents, I only had stitches

  once at 4 when I had my appendix out,

  I’ve been earning money since I was 10,

  supporting myself since 13, others since

  22, I got “unemployment” once, been

  fired several times, never paid to

  get laid, I lost money gambling but

  quit after I had to give up my high

  school ring in a poker game at the Dixie

  Hotel in Greenville South Carolina in

  1962 waiting for my friend Willy Dorton

  to come out from the room where he was

  proposing marriage to his favorite

  whore who always turned him down after<
br />
  they fucked and she got most of his

  paycheck from him, some of my best

  friends were hookers and strippers,

  postal clerks and shills, supermarket

  managers and factory workers, heavy

  revvies and punks, actresses and junkies,

  who were and are the most difficult

  of friends, art dealers and artists,

  musicians and hustlers, dykes and critics,

  shit workers and liberals, gringos and fags,

  and honkies and bastards, queer and old

  and divorced and straight and Italian

  and big deals and dipshits, I know at least

  six people who think they turned me on

  to dope for the first time in 1960 in

  New York City, in 1962 in Rantoul Illinois,

  in 1964 in Spokane Washington, in 1966 and

  67 in Iowa City, in 1969 in Washington

  DC, I once was high on opium and didn’t

  want to come back, I was a recreational

  therapist at Overbrook Hospital in Essex

  County New Jersey in 1966 where James Moody

  wrote “Last Train From Overbrook” before

  he was discharged, in 1960 I had a tremendous

  crush on Nina Simone, I always wanted to

  name a child Thelonious, I was sure

  I was an orphan at 10, I wished I was

  an orphan at 18, my father’s alive so

  I’m still not an orphan at 32, I know

  a lot of orphans, I once had an

  orphan for a lover, I suppose my kids

  could be orphans some day, I was never

  good at planning the future for more

  than a couple of days, friends have

  told me I always do things the hard way,

  my family’s response to tough times or

  catastrophes was usually humor, I’m

  grateful to them for giving me that,

  I find cynics boring although there’s

  a lot of the cynic in me, I find

  depression dull, mine or anyone else’s,

  I’m no good at small talk, I feel

  an undercurrent of violent tension

  in most “straight” bars and on late

  night city streets that intimidates

  me, I find jealousy useless and

  depressing, I know people who find

  jealousy exciting and even rewarding,

  something to live for, I’d love to

  make love all the ways I haven’t yet

  or haven’t thought of yet, with all

  the people I haven’t yet or haven’t met

  yet, although sometimes I could care

  less about sex, I write everyday

  and listen to music everyday and cant

  imagine living without either,

  libraries and hospitals intimidate me,

  being around people who seem to feel