23. februar 2008
I noticed the grass
I noticed the hills I noticed the highways I noticed the dirt road I noticed the car rows in the parking lot I noticed the ticket takers noticed the cash and the checks and credit cards I noticed the buses noticed mourners I noticed their children in red dresses I noticed the entrance sign noticed retreat houses noticed blue and yellow flags noticed the devotees, their trucks and buses, guards in khaki uniforms I noticed the crowds noticed misty skies noticed the all pervading smiles and empty eyes I noticed the pillows, coloured red and yellow, square pillows and round I noticed the Tori gate, passers-through bowing, a parade of men and women in formal dress noticed the procession noticed the bagpipe, drums, horns noticed high silk head crowns and saffron robes noticed the three piece suits I noticed the palanquin, an umbrella, the stupa painted with jewels the colours of the four directions – amber for generosity, green for karmic works noticed the white for Buddha, red for the heart – thirteen worlds on the stupa hat noticed the bell handle and umbrella, the empty head of the cement bell noticed the corpse to be set in the head of the bell noticed the monks chanting, horn plaint in our ears, smoke rising from atop the firebrick empty bells noticed the crowds quiet noticed the chilean poet noticed a rainbow I noticed the guru was dead I noticed his teacher bare breasted watching the corpse burn in the stupa noticed mourning students cross legged before their books, chanting devotional mantras, gesturing mysterious fingers, bells and brass thunderbolts in their hands I noticed flame rising above flags and wires and umbrellas and painted orange poles I noticed the sky noticed the sun, a rainbow around the sun, light misty clouds drifting over the sun I noticed my own heart beating, breath passing through my nostrils, my feet walking, eyes seeing noticing smoke above the corpse-fired monument I noticed the path downhill noticed the crowd moving toward buses I noticed food, lettuce salad I noticed the teacher was absent I noticed my friends noticed our car the blue Volvo, a young boy held my hand, our key in the motel door noticed a dark room noticed a dream and forgot noticed oranges lemons and caviar at breakfast I noticed the highway, sleepiness, homework, thoughts, the boy’s nippled chest in the breeze as the cars rolled down hillsides and past green woods to the water I noticed the houses and the balconies overlooking the misted horizon shore, and old worn rocks and the sand I noticed the sea I noticed the music I wanted to dance
On The Cremation of Chogyam Trungpa Vidyadhara | Allen Ginsberg
I noticed the hills I noticed the highways I noticed the dirt road I noticed the car rows in the parking lot I noticed the ticket takers noticed the cash and the checks and credit cards I noticed the buses noticed mourners I noticed their children in red dresses I noticed the entrance sign noticed retreat houses noticed blue and yellow flags noticed the devotees, their trucks and buses, guards in khaki uniforms I noticed the crowds noticed misty skies noticed the all pervading smiles and empty eyes I noticed the pillows, coloured red and yellow, square pillows and round I noticed the Tori gate, passers-through bowing, a parade of men and women in formal dress noticed the procession noticed the bagpipe, drums, horns noticed high silk head crowns and saffron robes noticed the three piece suits I noticed the palanquin, an umbrella, the stupa painted with jewels the colours of the four directions – amber for generosity, green for karmic works noticed the white for Buddha, red for the heart – thirteen worlds on the stupa hat noticed the bell handle and umbrella, the empty head of the cement bell noticed the corpse to be set in the head of the bell noticed the monks chanting, horn plaint in our ears, smoke rising from atop the firebrick empty bells noticed the crowds quiet noticed the chilean poet noticed a rainbow I noticed the guru was dead I noticed his teacher bare breasted watching the corpse burn in the stupa noticed mourning students cross legged before their books, chanting devotional mantras, gesturing mysterious fingers, bells and brass thunderbolts in their hands I noticed flame rising above flags and wires and umbrellas and painted orange poles I noticed the sky noticed the sun, a rainbow around the sun, light misty clouds drifting over the sun I noticed my own heart beating, breath passing through my nostrils, my feet walking, eyes seeing noticing smoke above the corpse-fired monument I noticed the path downhill noticed the crowd moving toward buses I noticed food, lettuce salad I noticed the teacher was absent I noticed my friends noticed our car the blue Volvo, a young boy held my hand, our key in the motel door noticed a dark room noticed a dream and forgot noticed oranges lemons and caviar at breakfast I noticed the highway, sleepiness, homework, thoughts, the boy’s nippled chest in the breeze as the cars rolled down hillsides and past green woods to the water I noticed the houses and the balconies overlooking the misted horizon shore, and old worn rocks and the sand I noticed the sea I noticed the music I wanted to dance
On The Cremation of Chogyam Trungpa Vidyadhara | Allen Ginsberg
g a g a - 23. Februar 2008, 21:43
