Book of Blues Read Free Page A

house—
    Heart & heaven.
27TH CHORUS
    San Francisco
    San Francisco
    You’re a muttering bum
    In a brown beat suit
    Cant make a woman
    On a rainy corner
    Your corners open out
    San Francisco
    To arc racks
    Of the Seals
    Lost in vapors
    Cold and bleak.
28TH CHORUS
    You’re as useless
    As a soda truck
    Parked in the rain
    With cases of pretty red
    Orange green & Coca Cola
    Brown receiving rain
    Drops like the sea
    Receiveth driving spikes
    Welling in the navel void.
    I also have loud poems:
    Broken plastic coverlets
    Flapping in the rain
    To cover newspapers
    All printed up
    And plain.
29TH CHORUS
    Guys with big pockets
    In heavy topcoats
    And slit scar
    Head bands down
    The middle of their hair
    All Bruce Barton combed
    Stand surveying Harrison
    Folsom St the Ramp
    And the redbrick clock
    Wishin they had a woman
    Or some money, honey
    Westinghouse Elevators
    Are full of pretty girls
    With classy cans
    And cute pans
    And long slim legs
    And eyes for the boss
    At quarter of four.
30TH CHORUS
    Old Age is an Indian
    With gray hair
    And a cane
    In an old coat
    Tapping along
    The rainy street
    To see the pretty oranges
    And the stores
    On his big day
    When the dog’s let out.
    Somewhere in this snow
    I see little children raped
    By maniacal sex fiends
    Eager to make a break
    But the F B I
    In the form of Ted
    Stands waiting
    Hand on gun
    In the Paranoiac
    Summer time
    To come.
31ST CHORUS
    I knew an angel
    In Mexico City
    Call’d La Negra
    Who the Same eyes
    Had as Sebastian
    And was reincarnated
    To suffer in the poker
    House rain
    Who had the same eyes
    As Sebastian
    When his Nirvana came
    Sambati was his name.
    Must have had one leg once
    And expensive armpit canes
    And traveled in this rain
    With youthful hidden pain
32ND CHORUS
    Beautiful girls
    Just primp
    But beautiful boys
    Do suffer.
    White wash rain stain
    Gravel roof glass black
    Red wood blue neon
    Green elevators
    Birds that change color
    And white ants
    Climbing to your knee
    Earnest for deliverance.
33RD CHORUS
    It was a mournful day
    The B O Bay was gray
    Old man angry-necks
    Stomped to escape sex
    And find his Television
    In the uptown vision
    Of the milk & secret
    Blossom curtain
    Creak it.
    Cheese it the cops!
    Ram down the lamb!
    700 Camels
    In Pakistan!
    Milk will curdle, honey,
    If you sit on stony penises
    Three times moving up & down
    And 7 times around
34TH CHORUS
    While young boys peek
    In the Hindu temple window
    To grow
    And come
    To A-mer-ri-kay
    And be long silent types
    In the night clerk cage
    Waiting for railroad calls
    And hints from Pakistan
    Beluchistan and Mien Mo
    That Mahatmas
    Havent left the field
    And tinkle bells
    And cobra flutes
    Still haunt our campfires
    In the calm & peaceful
    Night—
    Stars of India
35TH CHORUS
    And speak bashfully
    Thru strong brown eyes
    Of olden strengths
    And bad boy episodes
    And a father
    With sacred cows
    A wandering in his field.
    â€œRain on, O cloud!”
    The taste of worms
    Is soft & salty
    Like the sea,
    Or tears.
    And raindrops
    That dont know
    You’ve been deceived
    Slide on iron
    Raggedly gloomy
36TH CHORUS
    Falling off in wind.
    I got the San Francisco blues
    Bluer than misery
    I got the San Francisco blues
    Bluer than Eternity
    I gotta go on home
    Fine me
    Another
    Sanity
    I got the San Francisco blues
    Bluer than heaven’s gate, mate,
    I got the San Francisco blues
    Bluer than blue paint,
    Saint,—
    I better move on home
    Sleep in
    My golden
    Dream again
37TH CHORUS
    I got the San Acisca blues
    Singin in the street all day
    I got
    The San Acisca
    Blues
    Wailin in the street all day
    I better move on, podner,
    Make my West
    The Eastern Way—
    San
    Fran
    Cis
    Co—
    San
    Fran
    Cis
    Co
    Oh—
    ba
    by
38TH CHORUS
    Ever see a tired
    ba by
    Cryin to sleep
    in its mother’s arms
    Wailin all night long
    while the locomotive
    Wails on back
    A cry for a cry
    In the smoke and the lamp
    Of the hard ass night
    That’s how I
    fee-
    eel—
    That’s