When oh when will I meet my mistress?
I hope she has a lovely apartment or small home
She will wear her lovely black boots and designer jeans
And perhaps a **** blouse too

In the winter evening
We will have a nice fire

I will lie across her lap in only my *******
It will be so comforting to receive a firm spanking from her
It will be a loving spanking
Just firm enough to show she is in charge
But not too firm to make me cry

She pulls down my pink satin *******
Whap! Whap!
First 10 spanks with her hand
And then the next 10 with her wooden hairbrush
She used the hairbrush because
She thought I could have done a better job
Cleaning our kitchen floor

I have never been so happy to serve my mistress
I have prepared a lovely dinner prepared for her
After we eat
I will give her oral pleasure for as long as she desires
What a beautiful evening indeed

I -- A Pleasant Afternoon

                for Michael Brownstein and **** Gallup

One day 3 poets and 60 ears sat under a green-striped Chau-
        tauqua tent in Aurora
listening to Black spirituals, tapping their feet, appreciating
        words singing by in mountain winds
on a pleasant sunny day of rest -- the wild wind blew thru
        blue Heavens
filled with fluffy clouds stretched from Central City to Rocky
        Flats, Plutonium sizzled in its secret bed,
hot dogs sizzled in the Lion's Club lunchwagon microwave
        mouth, orangeade bubbled over in waxen cups
Traffic moved along Colefax, meditators silent in the Diamond
        Castle shrine-room at Boulder followed the breath going
        out of their nostrils,
Nobody could remember anything, spirits flew out of mouths
        & noses, out of the sky, across Colorado plains & the
        tent flapped happily open spacious & didn't fall down.
        

                                                        June 18, 1978

II -- Peace Protest

Cumulus clouds float across blue sky
        over the white-walled Rockwell Corporation factory
                                        -- am I going to stop that?

                                

Rocky Mountains rising behind us
        Denver shining in morning light
-- Led away from the crowd by police and photographers

                                

Middleaged Ginsberg and Ellsberg taken down the road
        to the greyhaired Sheriff's van --
But what about Einstein? What about Einstein? Hey, Einstein
                                Come back!

III -- Golden Courthouse

Waiting for the Judge, breathing silent
        Prisoners, witnesses, Police --
the stenographer yawns into her palms.

                                        August 9, 1978

IV -- Everybody's Fantasy

I walked outside & the bomb'd
        dropped lots of plutonium
        all over the Lower East Side
There weren't any buildings left just
        iron skeletons
groceries burned, potholes open to
        stinking sewer waters

There were people starving and crawling
        across the desert
the Martian UFOs with blue
        Light destroyer rays
passed over and dried up all the
        waters

Charred Amazon palmtrees for
        hundreds of miles on both sides
        of the river

                                August 10, 1978

V -- Waiting Room at the Rocky Flats Plutonium Plant

"Give us the weapons we need to protect ourselves!"
        the bareheaded guard lifts his flyswatter above the desk
                                                -- whap!

                                *

A green-letter'd shield on the pressboard wall!
        "Life is fragile.  Handle with care" --
My Goodness! here's where they make the nuclear bomb
                                  triggers.

                                        August 17, 1978

VI -- Numbers in Red Notebook

2,000,000 killed in Vietnam
13,000,000 refugees in Indochina 1972
200,000,000 years for the Galaxy to revolve on its core
24,000 the Babylonian Great Year
24,000 half life of plutonium
2,000 the most I ever got for a poetry reading
80,000 dolphins killed in the dragnet
4,000,000,000 years earth been born

                                                Summer 1978

When I was six my mama said
She’d pay me for each ten
Flies I got alive or dead
A penny.

So I wandered room to room
Swatter cocked to ****….
Listening for the tell-tale buzz
Of a fly on a windowsill.

Whap! Would go the swatter.
Splat! Another fly.
Whappity-wahappity, WHAP! SPLAT! WHAP!
Die. Die. Die.

Soon the hunt was over.
Not a fly remained.
The windowsills were dotted black;
the swatter smeared and stained.

I collected all the bodies
To see what death would bring:
Mama paid me seventeen cents
(and some were only wings!).

Today at school we learned about
How baby seals die:

“Mama, did you make a hat
Out of all those flies?”

Our thoughts of time travel
burnt-up when Junior
sang The Blues.

Foreign creature.
***** voodoo muppet.

His spaniel’s moan,
a call to mud,
digging deep like
“woo-woo-woo”

Smacking the past in the chin,
he dipped a laden lead melon
in a barrel of black molasses.
A slow lowering,
tender sinew slackened.
Unclawed-
the orb traversed his finger tips
nicking his nails on the way earthward.
The black drink parts then
floods back where it once was,
coating the cold round load
as it sank down below
the Mason-Dixon line.

Junior gurgled in slow-mo
dipped his Gibson
and stirred the stew,
made the black brew dribble over
the barrel’s shoulders
and puddle in the thick sticky
corners and cracks of
the Juke’s oak planks.

He fished it out then
-bladaplowplow-
-WHAP!!-
split that melon in half,
no knife, they used the trap,
then Junior took his break
to take a nap
in Baton Rouge.

The day is so rainy and gray
My homework has to be delayed
Sleepiness taking over
Eyes getting droopy it is pasting over me
“I feel like I and am in the doldrums” I say
“Sleep sleep sit down and lay”
What is this this bad thing so bad
Instead of making me really sleepy it is making me mad
Oh what do you want with me trying to make me sleepy
“Sleep sleep you don’t have anything to do
Lay down come on your sleepy I see you”
I slap it I whap it I put it away
I am not sleepy now go away!!!

I woke up this morning
Arose from my bed
My head was in pain
And there was hurt in my leg
  
Washed up and ate
and packed my brief
The works overload
caused little of sleep
  
Thought of times used
on the early ride-in
Fear subsides to agony
Then, stress subdues to sin
  
The mind does not drift
During works busy trends
And when the day's over
My mind, it just bends
  
So I go to the market
To pick up a something
Who's that?  Whap! Bam! Boom!
What's wrong?  Absolutely nothing!

Née in hospital wash bay.
Cut the feeding tube.
Whap voice into lungs.
Nature rolls the dice.
7-11 or craps out?