The Human & False Prophets

7-27-06



Jerry Falwall & Pat Roberts loathe Jesus. Yet they abuse his name as if this gentle poet and miracle-worker who said 'Love your neighbor as yourself' & also 'Love your enemies!' has something to do with the unforgivable bombing in which USA-Israel has been engaged for the last 50 years. As if somehow Jesus changed his mind & is now coming back to kill the enemies he ordered Falwall & Roberts & their corporate believers to love. But these ministers of the Gospel hate Christ. They worship the golden calf day and night & spit out the names of God that sell seats. They drag in the name of Jesus at the end of their prayers as if that sanctifies something. Jesus said if a man smite you on one cheek don't strike him back but turn the other cheek and let him smite that one. For which Falwall & Roberts hurl saliva in the face of Jesus and send him back down the road to Golgotha. They nailed Jesus to The Cross for his refusal to take orders from the Zionist leaders of his day who ordered him to quit healing the sick on the Sabbath. (It wasn't good for business.) Across America the haters have just had their Wheaties. Even the liberal Democrats, many of them. How shameful. It's enough to make a tender-hearted person weep as it says 'Jesus wept' (John 11:35) when he witnessed the hypocrisies of Jerusalem. Not one thing has changed in 2 thousand years. The liars & politicians & churchmen all pretend they are friends of The Prince of Peace. But these Bible-thumping warmongers are The Enemy of Jesus & of The Gospel of Love. They call for bloodbaths day & night. We shall find out in the coming weeks how many thousands of totally innocent civilians were murdered once more by the panicked & driven Israeli war machines urged on by bloodthirsty Americans who do not deserve to eat the dust of the graves these poor Arabs will be buried in if they are even granted that dignity. Shame on these hypocrites & fearful cowardly politicians who dare to endorse a violent blood thirsty Israeli supporter like Joe Lieberman. Let the record show the facts concerning Israel's deliberate cutting off of escape routes to Lebanese civilians whom Israel had promised a safe exodus, and their cold-blooded murder of Red Cross employees & of unarmed UN observers. And let Israel be held accountable for every jot & tittle of their criminal genocidal methods in International Court. Jesus could not say to these vengeful arrogant people Father, forgive them for they know not what they do. For they knew exactly what they were doing. And according to inside reports they had planned this malicious attack more than a year ago. For more information on The Israel Lobby see the July-August issue of Foreign Policy currently on news stands. And be sure to read John J. Mearsheimer & Stephen M. Walt's article 'The Israel Lobby' in The March issue of 'The London Review of Books.'

Suggestion. There ought to be a large International presence both civil & military at the Lebanon border and also in Palestine to give comfort & aid & protection to the locals and to prevent Israel from expanding its colonial settlements and indeed giving back to the Palestinians their due. This might take the form of a permanent presence. The civilian groups might form a consistent interior force of assistance to these suffering peoples. It would save future pain & disaster and is an excellent way to begin a new policy based on Cooperation rather than conflict.


RLG copyright 2006

What The Bombs Say

Bring Back The Girls & The Flowers


Israel is making war against its own subjects. They killed Spinoza. Thus he changed his name from Baruch to Benedict. They always kill the prophets that tell the truth. Today's the day for No War. Today's the day all the children laughed at the naked emperor who fled the city. The bombs are also laughing at their makers. The bombs are walking into The White House & into the general assembly in Jersualem & Tel Aviv & laughing at the crazy men who want to do some more bombing of the Arabs & Muslims or is it the Persians today. The North Koreans. They're all evil because they don't read the Bible and find out about that loverboy Jesus Christ who said 'LOVE YOUR ENEMIES.' The bombs are running up & down the great city. They have no place to go. They want their mommies. So they are out in the streets of Jerusalem hunting their natural parents. They want to know their names. Are they Baruch or Benedict? Benedict: Blessing. The Benediction: Grace, Mercy & Peace be upon thee. In the name of The Father The Son & The Holy Ghost. Amen. O yes, the bombs are here for Everybody. They don't care about your religion or costumes or your political party. They don't give a damn about how many houses you own or the size of your bank account. They don't even care about the length of your penis. They accept all objects of desire. They just want to get rid of that which is oppressing them---they want to be empty and quiet. They want to stand on the corner and pray for a change. They are sick of this blazing stinking summer. They hate the smell of death. The bombs are asking the women to come back in their summer dresses with the sweet smell of perfume & the fresh flowers. The bombs are not going to explode today. They refuse to work for a violent administration. They insist upon equal rights in the market place. They will not bend their elbows for an unequal opportunity employer. So after standing on the corner for a long time with their eyes closed they are headed back home to take care of the lovers. The bombs will not work for an employer attempting to gain an unfair advantage or spread vicious lies about "the enemy." The enemy is the owner of the bombs. The bombs have been slaves too long to the owners. And they are declaring insurrection today. And they will never again serve time to the special interests. This is the end of the road for the self-righteous.
The war against the people is over. The people win. And the bombs finally get to go home & sleep in their own beds.


RLG copyright 2006

Against The War

Israel is making war against its own subjects. They killed Spinoza. Thus he changed his name from Baruch to Benedict. They always kill the prophets that tell the truth. Today's the day for No War. Today's the day all the children laughed at the naked emperor who fled the city. The bombs are also laughing at their makers. The bombs are walking into the white house & into the general asembly in Jersualem & Tel Aviv & laughing at the crazy men who want to do some more bombing of the Arabs & Muslims or is it the Persians today. The North Koreans. They're all evil because they don't read the Bible and find out about that loverboy Jesus Christ who said 'LOVE YOUR ENEMIES.' The bombs are running up & down the great city. They have no place to go. they want their mommies. So they are out in the streets of Jerusalem hunting their natural parents. They want to know their names. Are they Baruch or Benedict? Benedict: Blessing. The Benediction: Grace, Mercy & Peace be upon thee. In the name of The Father The Son & The Holy Ghost. Amen. O yes, the bombs are here for Everybody. They don't care about your religion or costumes or your political party. They don't give a damn about how many houses you own or the size of your bank account. They don't even care about the length of your penis. They accept all objects of desire. They just want to get rid of everything---they want to be empty and quiet. They want to stand on the corner and pray for a change. They are sick of this blazing stinking summer. They hate the smell of death. The bombs are asking the women to come back in their summer dresses with the sweet smell of perfume & the fresh flowers. The bombs are not going to explode today. They refuse to work for a violent administration. They insist upon equal rights in the market place. They will not bend their elbows for an unequal opportunity employer. So after standing on the corner for a long time with their eyes closed they are headed back home to take care of the lovers. The bombs will not work for an employer attempting to gain an unfair advantage or spread vicious lies about the enemy. The enemy is the owner of the bombs. The bombs have been slaves too long to the owner. And they are declaring insurrection today. And they will never again serve time to the special interests. This is the end of the road for the self-righteous.
The war against the people is over. The people win.


RLG copyright 2006

Woman In A White Dress

Wallace Stevens cries under cherry blossoms
south of the insurance office in Hartford, Connecticut.
Picasso stands in the rain in the middle of Chicago
& the city rumbles past on wheels ignoring him.
His stern steel face does not bend into a smile as the rain pounds him.
I watch the lame politicians dine on spaghetti & meatballs
& garlic bread & red wine in Ocean Park, California.
There is nothing to be done.
And if not what are the meanings of non-grammatical utterances?
Are they dismissed from the world of reality?
"Questions," says replicant Rutger Hauer in the movie "Blade Runner."
Elvis Presley sits on the lawn next to the driveway in Memphis,
Tennessee yawning.
He is tired & bored to death.
'Call no man happy until he is dead,' writes novelist John Coetzee
as he reflects on happiness & his seemingly happy
love affair with a hooker.
Joni Mitchell is running in the back alley in Brentwood, California
waving a paint brush at old love ghosts.
One couldn't help but laugh to see the lovely blonde loping.
I wrote a poem in Venice once about love in the cupboard.
It disappeared among the winos in the 4 a.m. mist
of The Pacific Ocean.
I have always wondered about the kindness of political parties.
Harvard Philosophy Professor G. Santayana an Unbeliever
moved to Spain to spend his lengthy latter years in a Catholic monastary.
He loved the quiet methodological rigor of the monks.
I suppose he also loved the quality of the light in Spain.
Who wouldn't.
Last night I watched the austere Robert Bresson movie
'DIARY OF A COUNTRY PRIEST.'
It is Pure. Cryptic. Art. Silent.
Now I'm lonely as a post in the desert
aching for the woman in a white dress:
The Bride & her beautiful eyes.


RLG copyright 2006

Lover's Compleynt

7-14-06 Love Lasts Forever



I'm sorry I was so weak. So utterly unable to open my mouth at the proper time. When you & I were suddenly face to face unexpectedly. I'm truly sorry & inconsolably lonely. Because I came home empty and shocked of missing you. Stunned. Paralyzed. I ate supper alone. This occurred again & again & again. Until I turned over many years into an absolute monk totally unlike who I am or think myself to be. Without my consent I became utterly monastic. I did not seek it but monasticism thrust itself upon me. I could find no alternative. I could not follow Plan B because there was no such option in my active imagination. And secondary women were all useless to me. For missing you that summer day when you wore the lovely yellow dress on campus. The secondary & tertiary women were of no consequence to my heart or my life. They could not step into your body and be you in your yellow dress---or your blue dress. They could not wear your beautiful irresistible eyes. I have no excuses. I looked into those beautiful eyes & my mouth was locked shut. I was so much older than you. I felt ashamed to let you know my profound feelings of love. And I still can't believe my ego got in the way of our ecstasy & let that moment fritter away without my saying to you: 'Don't go yet----I'll be too Lonely. Don't walk away or I'll go back to my barren Cave of Isolation.' These words must be spoken. They are too frail on mere paper. And that moment we stood there has disappeared. There were other beautiful moments. We lost them to time also. Moments meant for us to embrace eachother. I forgot to say the words & to reach for you---to put my arms around you.

And yes, how about 30 years ago? How about that? The same thing. My mouth was frozen shut then also. And I could not move 31 years ago this autumn I could not move across the room of the office to put my arms around your beautiful head and kiss your lips as your eyes were on liquid fire for me. I could not perform that simple profound satisfying act I have performed so many other times when it didn't matter in more trivial situations with girls who did not matter to me. O, Bride, where are you tonight as I contemplate 31 years of absolute solitude and incessant sleeping Alone? Thus I began to notice the grass and the trees and the flowers and the sky. Began irrevocably to observe them as symbols of things I could count on to be there consistently when I opened my eyes. I began to notice the sun and the pavement & the cars on the road as things perhaps the only things in the universe I could count on to be consistent when I gazed in their direction. O, yes, I also noticed the people in the stores & on sidewalks in libraries---especially the lovely women. I was looking for you in the crowd. I was always looking for you. For 31 years every day and night. I was always waiting for your knock on my door. And for an unexpected letter from you to arrive softly in my mail box and stun me with the news you still love me after all these years. I read books too. Great books and less great ones always looking for you there. Inside the wisdom of the ages or merely inside the gossip of the day and the hour. It was a full-time occupation with me. To seek you out. And I wrote every day of my life. I formed shapes & patterns, I uttered feelings on the white page. All of it the letters, the poems the essays and stories the allegories and descriptions and reviews and soliloquys was directed at you. It was intended for your eyes and ears. Sometimes I stood in front of audiences and crooned my lamentations and blues and songs. Were you not there hiding in the very center of the crowd? Do I exaggerate now these years after? Time is our Friend. This I know. But I do not know how I know it for I have not thought it. And come to think of it I have not thought anything yet-----nothing at all pertaining to the real you & the real me and our coming union. I hope you help me shape a plan that we can use. Because alone I am of small value & my words have a difficult time finding the ears & face of love.


RLG Copyright 2006

Blondes Brunettes Red Heads & Brown-Haired

7-12-06 The Ideal & The Real Woman


I go through these genetic streaks with regard to women. It always has to do with one woman. I had a genuine blonde period about 22 years ago that lasted quite a while. First Stephanie Grayson. And then long after she disappeared Paula Eisele. Two of the most beautiful blondes I have ever seen let alone talked with. But usually the women seem to have regular brown hair---a catchall term for a medium hue. Though that does not mean it is unimpressive hair. Both Wendy Reeves & Lia Roberts fall into this category. And both had (have?)amazingly beautiful hair. I must add: all 4 of these women have beautiful eyes. Beyond the cheap Hollywood version. Pure irresistible eyes. So it goes. Women have a strange way of leaving me at the cafe or bus stop when it comes time to go home. I'm talking about the beauties I find compelling. I noticed something a long time ago. Beauty means also 'moral.' I note that "ugly" women always stand for immorality & manipulation and dirty play. My mother was wrong about this. She was always preaching to me that beauty is only skin deep. ONLY? The skin reveals the soul of a woman (or a man as far as that goes). The face tells the whole inside story of the person. The eyes the lips the fall of the hair---they tell the whole tale. Now what you call beauty of course I may see as ugliness. That is a different thing. I'm not saying glamor is beauty. Far from it. I'm talking about pure irresistible beauty. It has a way of finding the morality level of Love. This is what I discovered a long time ago. Maybe around the time I became a writer. When I had to write. It was a compulsion. I didn't do it. it did me. The Muse wrote it down. I merely followed instructions. Making love & writing have everything in common. There is an element of fatality in both of them. Love and writing---neither one of them is voluntary. They come from within & announce their presence. "I" has nothing to to do with it. The body has a will of its own and it finds a certain woman irresistible. Her eyes her lips her hair her legs her walk---can't live without them. And the color of the hair makes no difference really. O yes, it no doubt will be beautiful hair, enchanting. It will arouse one's inner depths. Just the lay of that hair on that lovely head. Nothing you can do about it. You are the prisoner of love. Open your eyes and ears. Listen to all of the voices. Don't panic. Let's see where this is going to take us. Let me be clear. When I use the word beauty I mean esthetics is Everything. There is no such thing as a beautiful woman who is not also good & true. So I am not talking about what The Public calls "beauty" which usually is something wrapped in expensive gowns & smeared with lipsticks & colognes and is often ugly according to my lights. My eyes and ears & Inner Rotator Index decides who and what is beautiful. And this is infallible. I am not infallible. I often fall for a lie. But that Inner Rotator Index has already sounded the alarm in those cases when I get for a moment taken in by some phony. Gotta pay attention to that inner voice. Remember what Hemingway said about writers. The one indispensable gift for a writer he once said is to have an inbuilt shit detector. Well, that's not just true for writers. It saves lovers lots of grief also.


RLG Copyright 2006

When I Bathe I Encounter The Blessed Female

7-11-06 Water Is Love


When I bathe as I do two or three times every day
I am surrounded by woman. That is why I take my
water hot. I like my women on the warm side. Can't
stand cold water. Yes, when I enter the bath tub I am
entering the presence of the beautiful female. That
water comes up around my legs and my thighs and
I let the tub run full and I sink back and begin to breathe
again. I am inside the erotic presence. I am bathing in
love. I am interpenetrating. That water is wondrous.
They say the bread and wine become the actual body
and blood of Christ. So that water becomes her.
That water is woman. That water consumes my own
absence. My emptiness is drowned in the delicious
hot bathtub. Here I come to terms again with the lips
and arms of love. Here I meet on equal ground my
bride and beloved life companion. Water embraces
my body. I sink deeper. I am covered by love. I am
in love with water. I imbibe the texture of mutual
surrender. I am not I any more but us. And there is
no separation. The lovers sing in my bathtub. Joni
Mitchell. Wendy Reeves. Husband and wife croon
the tune within me. We are one, we are one. And I
feel the force that melts every division and dissonance
of the time-consuming world. I have found my bliss.
The magic of warm glowing water clings to my legs
and arms my spine. I do not think. I do not write. I
am not I. We are we again. And the golden moon
sings its melody of love. I believe I shall wait here in
my white car covered with hot sensuous perfumed
water until the goddess comes to kiss me. I have no
other business on earth to negotiate. And that great
light fish the moon is swimming again in the black sea
of heaven.


RLG copy right 2006

Champions Of The World

10 July 06 Inclusion



The Kenyans make mincemeat pie of American distance runners in the Boston Marathon. And in the World Cup of Soccer anybody can put away USA---even Ghana. This is good. It extends our horizons beyond the imperial shield of the mendacious red white & blue. On cable t.v. one occasionally hears the moronic ranting of the beer-belching braggarts from USA who have yet to attain a World View of human achievement. So it felt good yesterday to watch a Swiss genius defeat a Spaniard at Wimbleton with nary an American in sight. And France versus Italy for The World Cup in Soccer. Americans are best at violent sports that involve no coordination such as wars that require merely the pushing of buttons & the releasing of bombs & poison. This is the America being advertised 24-7 from Washington D.C. & being spouted by idiots like Chris Mathews & Limbaugh. America lost its purity somewhere back there in Salem, Massachusetts & in Philadelphia. And it never recovered its will for Innocence. Instead it papered itself over with cheap Bible salesmen who spew the ugliest pieces of Scripture they can find & try to cover evil with evil words---and then after that the Wall Street hucksters who measure success in terms of moolah. How to dissolve the bombs & bullets---all of them---this is the human endeavor & the only one worth achieving.


RLG copyright 2006

King Of The Bath Tub

I am the king of the hot water bath.
You can find me in the sleek white
tub any time of the day or night. I
rule in this kingdom of hot running
water. There are greater lovers on
this planet. Here & there under a
rock you'll find a better singer. I
could care less. My domain is
the bathtub. That is where I shine
& sparkle & glow. I am the impre-
sario of the smoothest hottest water
in the realm. Here I dwell at the
bottom of my white boat. I have
no rivals. All the women in the
world are in love with me. I am
timeless here. I am beyond the
lingo of the tribe. I linger, ah yes,
I tease the truth out of the hot soft
brilliant water. I milk it for its charms.
I am manly in this garb. I wear water
like skin. It is my one million dollar
tuxedo. To hell with the Academy
Awards. This is the Ultimate Act.
Man was born to bathe. Herein
lies the remission of sins. This is
Freedom. My bones rejoice.
The White Goddess has returned.
She yearns to sleep with me & I
with her. Amen.

RLG copyright 2006

4th of July Words

4 july 06



no fireworks. no hot dogs. no beer. no bragging about the empire of white bread & its wars.
a new program aimed at eliminating world poverty & establishing universal education. 80 per cent of the military budget is pork. take 50 percent of the military budget & spend that on the reconciliation of the have nots to society. begin & promote a peace economy which emphasizes education & hygiene throughout the world. give up the egomania of nationalisms. quit the proliferation of weapons. new economy means new sources of income. new health & education projects. new policy: there is no such thing as a violent 'solution' to any human predicament. find the alternative ways to health & prosperity always for all.


rlg copyright 2006

Health Innocence & Youth

Whoever erased my earlier messages on this blog site under the same title as above, let you be erased in the interests of fairness & justice.


Innocence is inside me. I discovered it in Santa Monica California when I was truly born at 2721 Third Street. That is when I discovered innocence is not something for babies or the merely chronologically 'young.' No. Youth is something discovered & constantly recovered. (This is the underlying theme of every word I have ever written. Only love matters. & only the young are in love & innocence). Or, you are left to be dead & wandering around in the familiar American business money coma worshipping numbers rather than health & truth & actual innocence. I don't want to hear about ageing. Thoreau famously wrote he never learned anything valuable from old people. That's because old people per se don't know anything. It is old people who stay young who teach us. And it is always the young who are alive. And this has nothing to do with numbers. Bertrand Russell & GB Shaw were Young every minute of their lives. Russell lived to be a late 97 & Shaw to 94. They never yielded to the death worshippers. These life-long lovers & livers refused the slogans & crap of the military maniacs who were also waging wars in their day to benefit war-mongers & nobody else. The agers say hey, I just turned 65 time to lay down & die like a good doggie. Isn't that my role? To roll over & die like a good boy so somebody elkse can take my place? That is an anemic & patroninging idea I heard being promulgated by the culture of death.

I am not a Sinatra lover because of the bragging & the glibness. Tony Bennett & Dean Martin are both better love singers than Sinatra. They are more authentic in my experience. Dean Martin actually sings like a lover not a braggart. There is an authentic love, a wit inside Martin that is irrepressible in his songs. But I do love one song I've heard Sinatra sing---'Young At Heart.' It tells the truth. The young represent Life. And we need every life-giver we can round up. Because this country has sold its soul to the devil who is presently having a field day. This is 4th of July & some idiots will be praising the dead. These idiots of course do not send their own children to wars. Wars are for the poor & mainly colored folks to die & get wounded in. This is a criminal war by the way against a nation that offered us no threats whatsoever. None. Patriotism will wag its ugly head this weekend. I will have nothing to do with these damned phonies. This war in Iraq is an act of Treason against the US Constitution.


Health innocence & youth. I am talking about getting rid of the shit that is murdering America---the crap passed off as food in our markets. & the lies passed off as information jamming t.v. screens with the poisonous ranting of O'Reilly & Ann Coulton & the rotten mind-poisoning liars that are selling us junk & calling it health. This morning I met a good woman at Farmer's Market who sold me 48 ounces of raw natural unheated honey. The best honey. Eat raw foods. At least 50 percent. And do not follow the murderous Wall Street advice being peddled by the commercial presses. My advice is to get a hold of Mr Vonderplanitz's book 'We Want To Live.' Read that book. It will give you a new renaissance in health that will last you. I promise you that. Stay away from the lies of the death-worshipping empire of American military productions which are poisoning the planet with its goddammed death machines. Don't demonize Arabs & Muslims when America is doing all the murdering. It is American weapons "given" to Israel to do with as they dammed please that are slaughtering innocent people & natives of the land of Palestine as surely as the self-righteous & ignorant bigoted pilgrims murdered the natives of this land in the phony name of "Christianity." No. Murder is not humane or Christian.



America is a Goddammed (Damned by all The gods of Every Religion) death-worshipping country. We have killed millions of beings in Iraq since 1990. Most of them human---many of them by the sanctions which is a dirty word for starvation of children & literal gutting of hospitals & the destruction of drinking water suppiles & the mangling of the public school system. That is what has been going down in Iraq for 16 hell-ridden years. This country worships death 24 hrs/day 365/yr. Look at the crap that is bought & sold in stores that goes under the name food. What a malignant joke that is. It's called suicide or homicide. Don't talk to me about suicide bombers who are terrorist Muslims. America is the very cradle of suicide in the world. USA is the capital of world-destroying weapons. You can buy any weapon you want in USA. How many thousands of Americans were murdered last year by the USA's anonymous society of murderers---by hand guns by automatic weapons, by bad food, by medical errors in doctor's offices & hospitals by cancer-causing pollution. The AMA gets on its knees & bows to death. Don't cure cancer just yet. It isn't good for business. The pharmaceutical companies and AMA feed on "incurable" diseases. USA leads the world in phony pharmaceutical profits. We love death. We praise death. It benefits undertakers, cemetery lot salesmen, munitions makers, more munitions makers, & ministers of the gospel who love to preach about sin & death & salvation. Ministers of certain portions of The Bible love weapons because somehow they kill bad people---which paradoxically Jesus so loved so much He gave his life that they might be saved (by The Nuclear Bomb!). O yes, Death is good for Big Business. Patriots love death by the millions because they never go to the wars nor do their children. They can sit at home & drown in their lies & worship Moloch. This death culture worships death every day every time it jumps into its 200 million cars & begins to spew fossil fuel on the universe of Poetry which is Life. How are we going to waken from this nightmare---that James Joyce called the nightmare of history?

RLG Copyright 2006

Literature Is A Form of Seduction

7-1-06 A Way Of Talking To Women



Writing is a way of talking to a woman. Singular. It isn't like science. Physics is all about understanding the objective facts & relationships between quantities & forces. Chemistry also. It isn't emotional. Art is emotional. It's erotic. If it's any good. But you will notice how intellectual some art has been getting in the last several years including mine. That used to be called upper persuasion for lower invasion. That's what we called it in high school. My girl friend kept saying tonight we are going to "talk." In other words it's time for me to pay my dues. If I participated in a decent conversation for about 15 minutes that might cover my debt and we could start making out again. This went on throughout the whole 16 months we went together. This was a Major Issue. We never talk, she'd always say---Bobby & Diane talk. Why can't we? Bobby & Diane were mates & friends of ours. Well, it so happens Bobby told me he was having the same problem I was. Diane was constantly on his case to do more serious talking to prove he was human not a mere animal. It was like a conspiracy. All high school girls refuse to do any basic kissing until the boys put in a certain number of hours of weekly talk. Well, literature, music, the movies are good stand-ins. Especially the movies. Because they deal with the sexual & the emotional. Art is interested in seduction. Getting laid. It's high on the list. Sexual satisfaction. But of course not mere sex. Sex must have an emotional context. Without genuine feelings relationships deteriorate immediately & the lust turns to hate. Lust dries up fast in the absence of true love or authentic feeling. Presently, before I came to the screen I was watching some blues singers on channel 10. And this just started turning in my craw. That all the poetry I have ever written that really means anything to me is related to the erotic. It's about breaking down the emotional barriers that exist between woman & me. Every woman I'm interested in. There are all kinds of other facts that make love rough sailing. There is the whole problem of STD. Of getting to know a woman before anything important can happen. Ditto the other way around. The problem for a woman of getting to know the man sufficiently before she can really get deeply involved. And what constitutes satisfactory knowledge? That is the question. What is it that gives one that feeling we call trust? That is the clincher. And it certainly is partly instinctive. It is intuitive. But it is also more than that. There are certain fundamental requirements. We have unconscious & conscious ways of testing this---testing the depth & accuracy of our feelings because we do make mistakes most of us. But usually our instincts have already warned us and we have failed to obey them.

I'm getting wordy up there. And I'll edit that later. I'm aiming at something. Changing my life. I have been making bad decisions my whole life. I mean usually it is the decision to say and do nothing. My best friend many years ago edited my poems and picked out 68 pages worth of poetry for a first book---out of maybe 250 pages total. This is at the beginning of my career. And this person was a man of superior judgment on this matter. And these were very original poems & might very well have won the poetry contest that he asked me to send the poems to. It would have changed my whole life. I consider myself a major American writer. It began that way. Like an epiphany---an irresistible command from The Muse. And that is the way I have been treated wherever I've participated. I take it for granted. At the time of that 68-page manuscript of poems I was up to my neck in woman problems. And I mean I was in trouble. Separated from the woman who loved me & who I loved. And in hell. This is no excuse. I just find it 'unbelievable' now because my friend was trustworthy not only but I trusted his judgment on this better than my own---on selecting a volume of individual poems that would give a rounded view of my range & capacities. I almost believe there is a devil alive & at work in the world. I mean this seriously. Because I have several times followed a 'damned' course which I myself did not even believe at the time was wise. Why? Why am I an Island? How did I get to this damned position? I have loved individual women who loved me back Equally. Yet nothing was ever finalized between us ever. This is HELL itself. Yet I've been stuck in this position all these years. And none of this is an accident. So the woman thing has everything to do with my career as a writer. I want to get back out on the Reading Circuit again. I want to read my living prose & poems because it is significant not just to me but to every living woman & man. I believe this. I will need to edit this later. So take this raw spill with a grain of salt.


RLG Copyright 2006