![Gyr Rêve/ credit: D. Enck](https://www.emptymirrorbooks.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/11/gyr-reves.jpg)
Homage to Yoko Ono
1.
Be it ones unjustly reviled
who become atavistic avatars
bringing out the marvelous
mellifluistic magnum opera
(opus plural) in all her musicians
plumbing the pleistocene ERA
air time tight
like wrapped in serene
subway stations’ aural soup
tape loops tide on high
yaigh eye yie why
why not walk
the New York morning
2.
walk the morning in trauma,
mind talks like a jagged horn
guitars, a rock’n’roll band
roll room echo wave wand
roll toms and don’t worry
lying in a field of grass
thru warped glass / what’s plastic?
but the mind and its ear
when challenged by some
avatar, be it one ecstatic
or should it not always be
one ecstatic atavistic
in the New York morning woman?
Elegy for Lou Reed
Sunday morning gone—
the gold on the water,
the recently dead
cackling out among the trees
another we had anointed
hero has gone and
now his image
icons / album covers
the gold-leaf of Transformer
and indigo of The Blue Mask
as a fist
to death’s face, fight
it is glorious
the car’s back-seat night
and the spitty corner’s
flickering streetlight
•
we don’t know just where
we’re goin
just some beats
to imitate,
enough/
then it’s not
.
.
.
.
Elegy for Scott Asheton
What matters drummer or drum beat?
my own time as rock & roll drummer?
schooling in the fact of syntax for
poetry too’s rhythm and arrangement
of language, beats is an argument—
bass drum w/wood beater, boom of snare,
Scott Asheton had these, bass/snare
also toms and tom-based rhythms
(“1969,” “Little Doll,” fills on “Dirt” & others)
big booming toms
and the way on “Down on the Street”
he switches, two-thirds of the way through,
from high-hat to ride,
or the flams at “T.V. Eye”’s end
an army marching forward to annihilate you,
heavy snaric groove of “Fun House”
(which I think Miles Davis may have copped
for “Black Satin”)
I’d like to call you Scotty, tho didn’t know you,
knew some like you in wilds of inland states,
I tried—
your beats were beats
I too felt,
you were people I knew,
you were who I wanted to be—
why a beat matters,
because we are feeling beings
because you were in inner states
an artist who beat people up
Homage to André Breton
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