Montauk (1960s)

[Music] [Music] mon talk is out stretched invisibility on the pin Pricks of dawn beginnings and endings blown across sand circles spun from Swamp and cobwebs glistening with tears [Music] clouds map the sky and Earth's Reflection quickened by the seagull colors the telescope [Music] the sun breaks into Horizon streaks and the murmur and the place though they are old on the scene of time are determined a new [Music] [Music] [Music] [Music] Monto is height and bird notes on a Driftwood liar a grand stride of nature between ocean and cliff [Music] [Music] the sand is a pathway between ocean and Cliff where dragon teeth are strewn across a [Music] boulderfield the Cliff's tongue laps the Earth's crevice as she erodes herself into organ shapes [Music] the sand is a pathway between ocean and Cliff she's a treasure floor where all the attic shapes are swept through the ocean's gate to stay [Music] drift wood drift roll across and against waves fly at the [Music] sun dry Driftwood dry until you have a [Music] face long sprawling octopus of Shore and sea wayf farer and serpent knotted Twisted wood roll on the sand push the wind with your antique dance [Music] thin bird whose motions are emotionless marble colored seagulls gulls of Flesh [Music] they stand still bend their tails and shake the wind with feather duster wings but what of their eyes what do they see those gentle turns when they Splash with their wings with quick thrusts waving their once Wild Feathers now tamed with freedom [Music] like I feel a flying feeling defined by bird sounds like I feel singing to myself with the rhythm of the birds my flying feeling [Music] the feeling of standing still creates in me a whole new place in which I like to pick each wave apart and comb her foam in which I like to land on the sand and watch The Devil Bird spring up from the sky dive on her neck and pluck a fish from the sea [Music] [Music] I seem to follow a faster bird faster and faster toward an infinite [Music] Loop early GS staccato the far horn and this meager bird messages the Lighthouse at an hour when sleep's eyes are crossing the traffic of early dreams the froth on the waves hooded my dreams which had strained the boat's frame brighter than the North Star a Shor light deflowered the fog spawning the sound of morning and a gray [Music] day the Palaces of poetry are temporary places on Earth where birds live [Music] pecking small letters tiny words words taught to skip and hop without [Music] love will'll scribble On The Fringe of feeling and sing in the Sun my paace once trudged noisy among leaves and led me to a wood white fence that framed a gravestone and its warning words Isaac Conlin age 29 died of the [Music] plague this verdict had weathered six Generations since six black black gloves hurled his unmade coffin into a fear marked [Music] grave but someone's refreshing mind has fenced off this space leeding him back to his town his Countryside and set to breathing Love's finality [Music] the summer dwellers cart their leavings to the town dump their castoff smolder to the razor cats wine and the seagulls [Music] shrieking these ravenous Birds birs dive with Squadron accuracy and keep their vigil from the sky and from their Hill as the wind exposes the dumps [Music] [Music] finery I saw aut at a stand still today following a stormy night its warnings were filled with Morning Sun the whole experience relayed the pillows of a wave on a soft sea my hands cued up the cliff side between afternoon and Dusk and the waves spil their foam on the shore to dissolve all quicksand images [Music] I was fishing for my soul all day and found pillowed upon the sky natural man scratching his wind blown epap nameless roping the sky [Music] the carnival mind climbs an electric pole its eyes swell into a confetti Moon the carnival pole waves its laded rungs on a blank space images kangaroo into a human Zoo [Music] [Music] the stream of unconsciousness ends its last images are punished by bitter foam crowded kisses and lost [Music] battles their memory streams like ribbons is tied to a horizontal conscience in a ballad of [Music] [Music] Silence yes M talk is green with trees rough with hills bouldered with infinity a border of shrub and sand a direction dissolved into the sea where lunar Tides lap on the land [Music]