The Buddhist Third Class Junkmail Oracle collects levy's poetry, his collages-in both color and black and white-and other examples of his art, in a splendid large-format celebration of levy's unique contribution.

d.a. levy (1942-1968) was an underground poet and publisher from Cleveland. He died, under mysterious circumstances, at the age of twenty-six. MIKE GOLDEN is a poet, journalist, novelist, filmmaker, and award-winning playwright and screenwriter.

Chapter One

The Poetry

    from VARIATIONS ON A FLIP (1963)

the distrust breeding

uselessness of everything

how far til i hit bottom

happy new yeeaar ----??!

old year danced out on

big flat feet

glad to be rid of

its heavy burden

new years never came

he hid in the snow

in the waiting times square crowd

slugging cherry kijaa from a hip flask

`61'

brick by brick

i build my wall higher

so i can learn to live with

brick by brick

you build my wall higher

too high - i can learn to

live without

remembrance for a sleeping tiger

wipe the slate clean

scratch one artist from the books

one painter down the drain

strive for knowledge

reap a shallow grave

no more flowers

no more pain

books to books

brushes set aside

yet remember

to some she never died

    for a chick who died due to the unjust laws of the state

--*--

i walked out the rear door of my mind

the corridors are as bright as the outside world

... softness & tomorrow ...

i am nights of anguish

and lie

in invisible silence

of shadows weeping

in solitude

of unfriendly walls

seeping hollow echos,

the sweetness

of your voice whispering

in softness.

inside the hunger soledad

gnaws insatiable

with gnashing teeth

of ivor remembrances.

visions

of stolen ecstacy,

trembling the sun sets

on forgotten lakes

with the circle

of a pallid moon - rising.

resting

in the folds

of angels wings

we kissed

in tenderness

with langorous lips quivering

seems as if then

and lost,

tomorrow mornings apocalypse

and emptyness dissolves.

... to all sad endings ...

violet heartbreak

its the season i guess

tears on rock

born in spring - death in snow

sneering sun - you knew it all the time

... X ...

this strange little bird

has been tapping at my window

for the past few days

cheerfully chanting

"someone gona die"

"someone gona die"

i finally chased him away

with a whip of snowfluff

coughed my bronchial hack

spit up a clot of blood

christ, as if the howling

dog wasn't annoying enough

... progress ...

titan red

a women in bed

Tyche - lady of luck

a bus and mail truck

forget color

build a skscraper instead

= surrealist scene =

the plaster pillars are crumbling

the columns lay in granite heaps

the rotting timbers are creaking

      they snap

under the heavy burden of thought

my mind bails out of my skull

      dropping

to land and bounce

like a rubber ball

back and forth

on my pelvic bones

... quiet autumn ...

the sky changes its clothes

from pale blues to azure dragon

sometimes halloween oranges

and today its sabbath best

mother of pearl sky.

the sun red above grey-purple water

bronze sands littered with copper leaves

and driftwood sienna - dark brown

autumn crisp sweet smell

of burning leaves.

few green leaves hang onto life

clinging to their tree homes.

its a sad autumn - silent season

a few snow white clouds hover

overhead to predict winter

in winter its miles of

dangerous ice that covers the lake from cold

who will protect me

in winter lovers sweat under blankets

in warm passionate embraces

who will keep me warm

in winter all paths

lie buried in white snow

where will i walk

... white tiger ...

tiger eye - turquoise sky

in black copper and

gold, wheres the blue?

ecstacies hue

ruby sunset - be bold

... the crying tree ...

no flowers lay about my feet

no grass or weeds to hear me weep

ive drown them all in fruitless sorrow

the splash of leaves - a grey tomorrow

... education of a food fadist ...

pass the thesaurus

lord im hungry

little puddles of

Rogets

on my Webster salad

... neither nor ...

neither i nor there

      nor the purple flame

but the golden sun

      on the empty plain

in a field of blue

      a violet streak

and a green aurora

      on a mountain peak

cry - cry angel with silver wings

      dive through liquid emotions

and scream in whirls of hell

... this weekend of smiling navels ...

i opened hearts

and watched from crawling doors

but nothing angel

nothing

i tried the gingerbread scene

looking out of asylum windows

and rolled down spiral staircases

only stop like sisyphus in reverse

i licked cactus plants

till my tongue was shredded

and played in Nevada sands

eating ants-drunk aphid chasing ants

i've walked R.R. tracks collecting rust

covered iron scraps til my pockets

were so full i couldn't move and

the weight made me think of christ

i went swimming in the stagnant pools

of life and wandered the polluted

streets of a RANI incense

burning america

i never had time to look homeward

there was always a shortcut to

Nirvana - $.15 hamburgers and

fried onion rings

i kissed two warm lips

and woke to find myself on a lily pad

face to face with a mad frog who told me

i had halitosis - and lept

i crawled into my radio looking

for the music and made new friends

men in white coats and sweet

tasting cushions on the walls

I and i skipped in fields of dandelions

sneezing - with pockets full

of wet handkerchiefs and dreamt

of white poppy seed rolls

i opened hearts

and watched from the crawling doors

but nothing angel

nothing

... as age creeps in ...

why is it

that i admire youth

is it the flashy ignorance

(that ripens into old age)

rebellion? disallusionment

the insouciant chatter

the heavenly obliviousness

that roams with the unaware-everything

is "no matter"

the soft lines of agelessness

smiles uncynical - not chose with care

or is it because - i missed it

riding too fast - living too high

traveling lifes thoroughfare

... october song ...

moon hanging lower from downgrass

    and i wrapped in mysticism

so surrealistically symbolical

    an i for an i

and toothless for toothless

    groundup in a rainbag to be

thrown away on a paperday

this is shinto - this is zen

    this is my brother

then lost again

    rythmical like a salty orgasm

thrown away on a paperday

pumpkins fast for yom kipper

    all this i missed

in pursuit of a grey night

    midnight running loose

with impassioned sinister sky to be -

    thrown away on a paperday

littered sidewalks shouting to passing clouds

    while cars became a blizzard

of smash the asphalt

    all this i missed in pursuit of

a quiet doorway to be

thrown away on a paperday

... my enemy ...

i stand outside me and watch myself

i point at me

giggle

and then i laugh

and my laughter grows and grows

until -

the eternal headache

sleep - unconsciousness

i escape from me

... the black void ...

oh man

the noises i hear

each infinities sound magnifing itself

waiting like nights cat or children strangling

louder - LOUDER

pounding in the head

dryness

the flesh peels from the soul

yet - the mouth remains

i speak - but the sounds are not

i see - but everything dissolves

the hunger

craving - forever unsatisfied

the hunger

and what for this time

the thirst for the unattainable

the taste for--the knowledge of never

... no more talk about waterloo ...

ivory symphony

buttercup cords

the wax museums quiet now

since they hauled napolean away

... prelude to a rice throwing ...

lips we let touch

and ran amuck

raced to silver stars

and flew through bars

leaving open

entrances with

their portal plugs swinging

in the foolishness of

captured tied with first

loves blood pumping organs

then souls

forgotten puppy love

to bed and back

tortured rack

wrapped in crepe paper

... for a rainy day ...

kisses

we tried to save

pressed in books

like flowers from

a sun warmed day

only

years later to

open yellowing pages

to find those same

kisses - wilted and dry

... bop for kiddies ...

i watermeloned down the lawn

and summersalts in season

a red balloon

a blue - a green

an orange one all

floating skyward

with childrens dreams tied

Copyright © 1999 Mike Golden. All rights reserved.