Sunday, April 10, 2011

Inching Toward the Light: Peter Orlovsky: Snail Poem


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http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/3b/Snail-front-0A.jpg

Snail (size one centimeter), frontal view, Greece: photo by Adamantios, April 2007





Make my grave shape of heart so like a flower be free aired & handsome felt,

Grave root pillow, tung up from grave & wigle at blown up clowd.

Ear turnes close to underlayer of green felt moss & sound of rain dribble thru this layer down to the roots that will tickle my ear.

Hay grave, my toes need cutting so file away in sound curve or

Garbage grave, way above my head, blood will soon trickle in my ear -- no choise but the grave, so cat & sheep are daisey turned.

Train will tug my grave, my breath hueing gentil vapor between weel & track.

So kitten string & ball, jumpe over this mound so gently & cutely

So my toe can curl & become a snail & go curiousely on its way.



1958 NYC




Peter Orlovsky: Snail Poem, 1958, from Clean Asshole Poems & Smiling Vegetable Songs, 1978