What It Means To Be Bohemian

 

I must learn the art of the broadsword I had everything I needed to make a break for the hills a waterfall splashes the things I put off to the side a man can only do so much ferns always look ancient the growl of a big cat interrupts the soughing of the wind in the pines

I thought about growing a mustache deranged and frenetic like a paragraph of stars after going down the Wenatchee River in early April I rode an appaloosa named Apache in the Pacific surf I learned to juggle in Snohomish there’s not much you can do to save a language from decaying Rimbaud kept pace with the camel on the sandy soil of the Guban desert there at your elbow stands the long cool drink

When you put words together they begin to do things in the mind this tender ache which is all over you like a voluptuous feeling no but seriously what did I achieve during all these years before the troopers who were busy with their horses in the square had finished grooming them you hope for the truth when talking to a mechanic but it’s a very thin and whispery hope the camel is for background as I wait for a vision the exquisite diminuendo of consciousness in good clean linen

It's complicated to find annoyance in a meeting I always like to imagine what people on the other side of the horizon might be doing dousing a candle feeding a cat starting an engine the last time I saw optimism I must’ve been in my early 20s when that happens you go somewhere else and hope for something better cravings associated with deep satisfactions that never follow should teach you something about compression sleeves for ankle support one’s whole sensuous being is immersed in portulaca as night falls here dawn rises on the other side of the equation soap and dizziness and pain are all part of the path to glory

Tools are fun chameleons are a little less fun but amusing in their own way sensations during fever are barely distinguishable from mockery I feel like I’m administering CPR to the English language infinity can’t be comprehended with human intelligence I bang on expandibility much to the annoyance of everyone in old age cynicism is as routine as cataracts and rheumatism spring is a time very far from here

Swimming makes me feel parenthetical I remember those calendars that used to hang in every car repair garage in America a young busty woman in a big straw hat and red bikini at the beach I can smell mud all the way to the roof it was the era of suitcases and whispers neurons are expressed in sparkling eyes words come later if they come at all I tried ordering a hamburger and couldn’t stop laughing at the word hamburger somebody else had to order it for me the world had three and a half billion people in it not to mention swim meets universities rock stars amoebas diseases slides emergencies and prizefights

In the winter of 1966 I traveled east to North Dakota all the men on the train wore thick winter coats and astrakhan hats fifty-eight years later I hear the breath of a woman doing yoga the room grew quiet when Proust entered the room no one expected the supernatural could do such things jump around in a frenzy while Gimme Shelter floods the room with urgency sex drugs and rock ‘n roll one cannot pray insincerely in candlelight things remain close to a window after an earthquake no reason no reason at all for any of this it just happened

Before everything on the planet fell prey to technofeudalism we had opinions we could share in private and now there are piles of towels on the old straw chair and apps and scooters and streaming services the cross is a symbol of hope in Vaticans of dope the feeling of warm ocean air passing over your skin in silken fluency there are no conceptions everything exists life in the foundry was hot and noisy as the language shrinks the minds that feed on its shores shrink with it the sound of a bullet ricocheting off of a rock the almanac is ash this is the language I use for making a skeleton the castle of Lindisfarne comes to mind the Vikings ripped jewels from the books they could not read I remember a puppeteer in downtown Seattle a tall lanky guy he had a Jimi Hendrix marionette that played guitar I don’t see that kind of flexibility in the stars but I do see Being

Denture stomatitis is characterized as inflammation and erythema of the oral mucosal areas the denture covered I put it in a small jar with a lozenge of Efferdent Deadwood is quiet in the morning cowboys sitting around a fire discussing Spinoza I plead with the air to understand the wind as soon as you pushed pass the big revolving door at Macy’s you would be seduced by dozens of fragrances the air passing through itself creating an embassy between two worlds I wish I could demonstrate what it means to be bohemian some people are open to vision others struggle to find kindness no one likes to be morose the one question you don’t want to ask yourself is why am I doing this what’s the point Arthur Rimbaud holds the elevator door open for me as I rush to get in