seasonal

one mile is always two in winter

- george herbert

THE COSMOLOGY OF FINDING YOUR SPOT

By Ed Dorn, 1969, Lawrence, Kansas

The Resistantism of all other places
On the floor among filters and the spillings
The cosmology of the floor of the Nation
The cosmology of finding your place
The cosmology of smelling and feeling your Natural place
inside the place, feeling the filters
feeling the rock, felling the roll
feeling the social spray at that level
low down, with the filters and the feet
feeling the place you can fold all four legs
and be man's best friend to the End, among the filters
and the feet, in the rock, and in the roll
in the clock and in the roll, in the hole
of the social bilge The Great White Dog
of the Rockchalk, seeks his place Seeks
The place for Him there, tries every scrap of Space
The Great White Dog of The Rockchalk
moves under the Social seeking his own Place
in the constant present snap of eternity
listening with the german dislocated castanet
His Nose Is under the great pin ball rolling in heaven above
thru the barren terrain of feet
He moves from place to place seeking his place
The resisters the dogs seek their place
WAYNE KIMBALL told me all this
WAYNE KIMBALL sits in the booths,
WAYNE KIMBALLknows about the The Great White Dog of The Rockchalk
The Great White Dog of The Rockchalk doesn't
The Great White Dog of The Rockchalk has been there
Western Civilization is Beer
The Great White Dog of The Rockchalk
went thru the door of Western Civilization
Which is north of the Barbershop
and north of the sailor pants incense shop
The Great White Dog went between all that
and the Gaslight, The Great White Rockchalk Dog
shakes hands with both paws indiscriminately
For he Seeks his own true place on the floor
He disregards the social He seeks the Place
he seeks The Space his soul can occupy
In His restless search he looks only for the Place
Where he can come to rest in his own true Place
and that might be on the floor of the rockchalk
The great White Dog is not Interdicted by opinion
He accepts the floor of the Rock Chalk as an Area,
like any other, he will test that space
He is preoccupied only with the Search
The Great White Dog of The Rockchalk is not social
WAYNE KIMBALL told me all this,
WAYNE KIMBALL
is social, he knows only persons, he doesn't
give a shit for the floor of the Rockchalk
WAYNE KIMBALL is neurotic like us, he wants
to smoke Grass,
WAYNE KIMBALL sits in the booths
WAYNE KIMBALL drinks beer, has a part time job
pretending to be literate,
WAYNE KIMBALL uses
the telephone and all other public Utilities
including Cocaine, The Great White Dog
of The Rockchalk is full of shit and can't shit
until he finds his place,
WAYNE KIMBALL has diarrhea
WAYNE KIMBALL hasn't got a driver's license
WAYNE KIMBALL is thin and knows everything that happens
He has ears, He is a corrupt little mongrel like us
turned on to everything hopeless and bullshit
The Great White Dog of The Rockchalk is dumb
and doesn't know anything but his instinct for the search
for his place somewhere in the litter
of the filters and the literally dropped dreams
of the Great Rock Chalk, he smells the dreams
on the floor dropped from between the legs
of young English majors, ejected from between the
Dual Spraycans of the fraternizers
He seeks his place on top of this matter
among the feet of the privileged nation on the floor
of the Great shit, Rock Chalk Rock Chalk White Rock
Calk Dog, And
WAYNE KIMBALL Smokes cigarettes
and Thoreaus them ontoOntoOntoOnto the floor
already predicated by cancer, the slow movement of Cancer
And I love these dogs because they are us and more us
than we are and they seek their places as do the true
whether they are Resisters or just scared or both
They are the twin dogs of creation in our image
and I give them both the floor as I give the Resisters
This Poem from the throne of Belief as the Egyptians
Gave and took from the Dogs Their access to Heaven
That we may all be Gods and seek our Place.
-ED DORN


i figured nobody else will download an ed dorn poem tonite so maybe i should
i am liking his poems more and more
i find myself returning to read them again
i feel close to this poem in that i've read it now twice
and i did some impromptu line editing
which may in fact be undermined as soon as i attempt
to publish the thing
any way
here goes

in matters of taste

In his highest flights
musical and architectural above all
for they are one
man gives the illusion of rivalling the order
the majesty and the splendor of the heavens

henry miller the colossus of maroussi