Do the Dead Know what Time It Is
The old guy put down his beer. Son, he said, (and a girl came over to the table where we were: asked us by Jack Christ to buy her a drink.) Son,
I am going to tell you something The like of which nobody was ever told. (and the girl said,
I've got nothing on tonight; how about you and me going to your place?) I am going to tell you the story of my mother's Meeting with God. (and I whispered to the girl:
I don't have a room, but maybe...) She walked up to where the top of the world is And He came right up to her and said So at last you've come home. (but maybe what? I thought I'd like to stay here and talk to you.) My mother started to cry and God Put His arms around her. (about what? Oh, just 'll find something.) She said it was like a fog coming over her face And light was everywhere and a soft voice saying You can stop crying now. (what can we talk about that will take all night? and I said that I didn't know.) You can stop crying now.
Kenneth Patchen
Other author posts
My Generation Reading The Newspapers
We must be slow and delicate; return the policeman's stare with some esteem, remember this is not a shadow play of doves and geese but this is now the time to write it down, record the words— I mean we should have left some pride of youth and not ...
We Go Out Together In the Staring Town
We go out together into the staring And buy cheese and bread and little jugs withflowered Everywhere is a tent where we put on our whirling showA great deal has been said of the handless Which war has set loose in the gay milk of
The Naked Land
A beast stands at my eye I cook my senses in a dark fire The old wombs rot and the new Approaches with the footsteps of a world
Saturday Night in the Parthenon
Tiny green birds skate over the surface of the room A naked girl prepares a basin with steaming water, And in the corner away from the hearth, the red Of an up-ended chariot slowly turn
