D.A. Levy Poems, Poetry, Artwork, Letters and Photos.

Jaywalking Blues

(for t.l.k. / j.r.s. and grady)

by d.a.levy

AFTER the first police putsch

on the cities
information sources
                                    & magician s

                UNI*Corpsed from psycho

                logical operations
                similar to those musically

                performed at well known
                rest resorts like Dachau &
                San Diego/
                                    strange figures.
                rose             from beneath the
                streets of medina marble &
                             (gave me the first
                christmas ive had in years)

new family
of the sun
i feel—-
funny thing

a dark winter night
5 years & finally
the moon is setting on the

/chicago poets
do not understand
my pottery/

after 8 yrs writing
& 4 yrs printing
& being very poor
& being romantic (only enuf to
fill in the nothingness of
   being a poet in america)

(spelled peon)

the years disapated
& i havent anything
except sum unbelievable
beautiful friends with
tears in their eyes & i havent anything
to say
          my name is myself
          the pencil dead in my hand again

how is this connection made?
ink – pencil suddenly sucking
my brain cells dry –
is it that i become
in tune with the
consciousness of the

it is when the
ink starts spurting from
the pen like sperm
             & the ecstasy
             moves upward
             between the eyes
i am beyond
physical matter
i am beyond myself NOW
who is this speaking from
beyond the strings of this
          i hiding?
(something from Cleveland)
look there first i say to
          & LOOK
          & PUKE
          & unlike the city
i cannot sweep it under the carpet
& ask the federal govt. for help

i cannot even drive to hunting valley
& watch the policemen deliver news-

next week tho,
when the zipper on my levi’s is fixed
i’ll put on my numbered dungaree shirt
& go to Collinwood

burn incense at Five Points
& buy Kumara’s brother at Norms

that is, if im not arrested
for some serious violation
like enticing a minor
to jaywalk.



To Jim Lowel’s Goldfish

there is little or nothing
of the minds nightwork
so there is pretending & amusement
a goldfish in a toilet bowl
a piece of the captured sun
the heart of a melons wisdom

if of the Spanish marauders
a ripping up of alabaster by its iron roots
carries this treasure off to store in a
galleon that is to die young

instead, i anchor him with old memories
and change his water by day
he thinks it is the tide

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