Blues & 4 Haikus

Part of the morning stars
The moon and the mail
The ravenous X, the raving ache,
--the moon Sittle La
Pottle, teh, teh, teh,--

The poets in owlish old rooms
who write bent over words
know that words were invented
because noting was nothing

In use of words, use words,
the X and the blank
And the Emperor's white page
And the last of the Bulls
Before spring operates
Are all lotsa nothin
which we got anyway
So we'll deal in the night
in the market of words
And he sits embrowned
in a brown chest
Before the palish priests

And he points delicately
at the sky
With palm and forefinger

And's got a halo
of gate black

And's got a hawknosed
watcher who loves to hate

But has learned to meditate
It do no good to hate

So watches, roseate laurel
on head
In back of Prince Avalokitesvar
Who moos with snow hand
And laces with pearls
the sea's majesty

Shall I say no?                                                  Unencouraging sign
---fly rubbing                                                    ---the fish store
its back legs                                                      Is closed

Nodding against                                                Straining at the padlock
the wall, the flowers                                            the garage doors
Sneeze                                                               At noon

Jack Kerouac

Saturday Afternoon

It is like a monster come to dinner,
and the dinner table is set,
the fire in the fireplace,
good luck to good dinner--

The monster you love is home again,
and he tells you the stories of the world,
big cities, small men
and women.

Make room for the furry wooden eyed
monster. He is my friend,
whom you burn.

Robert Creeley

YUGEN is published quarterly at 402 W. 20th St., New York 11, NY subscriptions:
$2.00 per year, single copies: 50. Manuscripts will not be returned unless accompanied
by a stamped, self-addressed envelope.
Copyright 1959 by LeRoi Jones and Hettie Cohen.


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