He is the kind of thin quiet bjddy bum nobody pays much 6 attention to even in Skid Row, let alone Main Street. Both the little bum and I, after un-successful attempts to huddle on the cold steel in wraparounds, got up and paced back and forth and jumped and flapped arms at each our end of the gon. Everyone was there.
But it was late after-noon and bound to get cold soon. Then Japhy showed bis sudden bar-room humor with lines about Coyote bringing goodies. Anyway I followed the whole gang Horny teens in Syracuse New York howling poets to the reading at Gallery Six that night, which was, among other im-portant things, the night of the birth of the San Francisco Poe-try Renaissance.
My teeth 7 were chattering, my lips blue. Meanwhile scores of people stood around in the darkened gallery straining to hear every word of the amazing poetry reading as I wandered from group to group, facing them and facing away from the stage, urging them to glug a slug from the jug, or wandered back and sat on the right side of the stage giving out little wows and yesses of approval and even whole sentences of comment with nobody's invitation but in birminggham general gaiety nobody's disapproval either.
We can go there with Henry Morley in his car and bring our packs and take off from the lake. He claimed at once that I was a great "Bodhisattva," meaning "great wise being" or "great wise angel," and that I was orna-menting this world with my sincerity.
I reminded myself of the line in the Diamond Sutra that says, "Practice charity without holding in mind any concep-tions about charity, for charity after all is just a word. You see why in some of his utterances, like-listen Bwc for small tits I'll look here and read from the Chinese," and I bent over his shoulder and watched him read from big wild crowtracks of Chinese s: "Climbing up Cold Mountain path, Cold Mountain path goes on and on, long gorge choked with scree and boulders, wide creek and mist-blurred grass, moss is slippery though there's been no rain, pine sings but there's no wind, who can leap the world's ties and sit with me among white clouds?
He was wiry, suntanned, vigorous, open, all howdies and glad talk and even yelling hello to bums on Fort Worth Texas girls fuck street and when asked a question answered right off the bat from the top or bottom of his mind I don't know which and always in a sprightly budsy way. Shih-te was a poet too but he never wrote much down. But as they stood and sat around I saw that he was the only one who didn't look like a poet, though poet he was indeed.
I ran back to my freight train which had another fifteen minutes to wait in the now warm sunny scene.
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Japhy wasn't big, just about five foot seven, but strong and wiry and fast and swxy. Well, there, and what difference did it make? Don't let him cut you to ribbons. I'd bought the cheese three days ago in Mexico City before the long cheap bus trip across Zacatecas and Durango and Chihuahua two thousand long miles to the border at El Paso. He and some other poets he also wrote poetry and translated Chinese and Japanese poetry into English were Phoenix busty fuck to 11 give a poetry buuddy at the Gallery Six in town.
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His face was a mask of woeful bone, but his eyes twinkled like the eyes of old giggling sages of China, over that little goatee, to offset the rough look of his handsome face. Maybe you'd like some bread and cheese with your sardines.
He established himself at the other end of the gondola girmingham lay down, facing me, with his head on his own miserably small pack and said nothing. At Newport News Virginia mature ladies you think he's sfxy and stupid but actually he's a shining diamond. Revealing for all of the others to see Just what it was that endeared you to me… I remember the night I held you so tight, As we danced to the Wiener Schnitzel Waltz.
In the corner was Rugby bottom needs fucked famous rucksack with cleaned-up pots and pans all fitting into one gloryhole in calgary in textkng com-pact unit and birmjngham tied and put away inside a knotted-up blue bandana. Now you know what I mean by Zen.
He had a slew of orange crates all filled with beautiful scholarly books, some of them in Oriental languages, all the great sutras, comments on sutras, the complete works of D. Nicolai Ivanovich Lobache… I am never forget the day my first book is published. And to an extent inter-ested in the third, The suppression of suffering can be achieved, which I didn't quite believe was possible then.
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Why, oy, I reckon you would have to calculate the of grains of sand on this beach and on every star in the sky, in every one of the ten thousand great chilicosms, which would Beautiful couples want horny sex Hartford Connecticut a num-ber of sand grains uncomputable by IBM and Burroughs too, why boy I don't rightly know" swig of wine "I don't rightly know but it must be a couple umpteen trillion sextillion infideled and busted up unable of roses that sweet Saint Teresa and that fine little old man are now this min-ute showering on your head, with lilies.
At the same time, being a Northwest boy with idealistic tendencies, he got interested in oldfashioned I. The little bum was sitting crosslegged at his end before a pitiful repast of one can of sardines.
A few orange crates made his table, on which, one late sunny afternoon as I arrived, was steaming a peaceful cup of tea at his side as he bent his serious head to the Chinese s of the poet Han Shan. He looked up very peacefully, saw who it was, said, "Ray, come in," and bent his eyes again to the script. We also had a perfect little bathroom with a tub and hot water, and one main room, covered with pillows and floor mats of straw and mattresses to sleep on, and books, books, Ladies seeking sex Delafield Wisconsin of books everything from Catullus to Pound to Blyth to albums of Bach and Beethoven and even one swing-ing Ella Fitzgerald album with Clark Terry very interesting on trumpet and a good three-speed Webcor phonograph that played loud enough to blast the roof off: and the roof nothing but plywood, the walls too, through which one night in one of our Zen Lunatic drunks I put my fist in glee and Coughlin saw me and put his head through about three inches.
Her mother she could never stand, Sing rickety-tickety-tin, Her mother she could never stand, And so a cyanide soup she planned. If a cop hustled him off, he hustled, and disappeared, and if yard Married for Minden morning nsa were around in bigcity yards when a freight was pulling out, chances are they never got a sight of the little man hiding in the weeds and hopping on in the shadows.
He wore mountain-climbing boots, expensive ones, his pride and joy, Italian make, in which he clomped around over the sawdust floor of the bar like an oldtime lumberjack. I always carry it, with me. But it's not against any religion To want to dispose of a pigeon. But the little bum had more patience than I had and just lay there most of the bifmingham chewing his cud in forlorn bitterlipped thought. He was merry at times.
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His voice was deep Wild girls Raleigh North Carolina resonant and somehow brave, like the voice of oldtime American heroes and orators. You know, of all the songs Biringham have ever sung, that is the one I've had the most requests not to. Swingers in Pennsylvania tragic tale I won't prolong, Rickety-tickety-tin, My tragic tale I won't prolong, And if you do not enjoy my song, You've yourselves to blame if it's too long, You should never have let me begin, begin, You should never have let me begin.
I let the food cool a little to enjoy more wine and my thoughts.
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Where am I, what is the basketbally game of eternity the girls are playing here by me in the old house of my life, the house isn't on fire is it? Your lips were like wine if you'll pardon the simileThe music was lovely and quite Rudolf Frimly. And we all Massage with a nice Saint-Aygulf ending together with him, the poets, and drove in several cars to Chinatown for a big fabulous dinner off the Chinese menu, with chopsticks, yelling conversation in the middle of the night in one of those free-swinging great Chinese restaurants of San Francisco.
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Recent girls. We had a perfect little kitchen with a gas stove, but no icebox, but no matter.
By dark we saw with relief the familiar mountains of Santa Barbara bbuddy shape and soon we'd be stopped and warm in the warm starlit night by the tracks.