"...cheerfulley dedicated to worms & worm castings, kitchen vegitable
organic wastes collected & composted to back yard garden spots, gathering
fall leaves for more composting, pooling ol human manure back to garden-land,
planting as maney nut & fruit trees as I can every May, improveing the
growing black organic power of soils whare ever I be, keeping a big eye on
commercial fertilizer use because it burns the liveing organisms in the soil.
The soils in farm land America have gone from bad to unbelieveable worse
by irrosion & over use the decades & soil 'gone down hill'."
Good fuck with Denise
she laying face down
from her rear
I pounding in
good long full come
with cock joint twisting in
the feeling inside cock near joint good feeling there.
Sleeping outside on wooden platform,
bat sweeking flying around in dark.
Working day tomorrow
good color on my ass & balls & hip & groin sections,
very luckey this summer!
My first time in 41 years I get to work naked
How luckey can I be!
There arent maney people in the world this summer
who can boast working tan assed man on the job
nailing roff on
putting up board & batton
painting rafter beams waterproof
nailing tung & gruve floor boards tight
a wooden jem retreat meditation little house
we built in Serra Nevadas
& quite a few times
the sun gave me a warm kiss
on the center of my ass hole
wile bending deep down doing some funney work.
Aug 5th, 1974 Sierra Nevada
Clean Asshole Poems & Smiling Vegetable
Funny poems from Allen Ginsberg's lover.
Like old Ezra
Pound, Orlovsky eschewed proper spelling in deference to word essence.
Soul is connection between mouth and asshole, empty without both, all parts
of meat vehicle and cosmic connections celebrated here. Orlovsky's anatomical
candor resonates with soapy wiping station in Kerouac's
Dharma Bums (no pun?) and Burroughs' famous line from
Naked Lunch: Gentle Reader, we glimpse god through our
assholes in the flashbulb of orgasm. This is a sweet little pocket-sized
book, out of print, admired by Williams,
assigned by Allen Ginsberg in his Beat Lit class at Brooklyn College. Let
it tickle you.
CAT HAIKU (p. 70):
Cat throughing up in all the rooms
Is that my heaven to clean
well! here I am in the city tickling floors
* This poem is reprinted for educational purposes *